


Me, Amplified

by xoperaticxskeletonsx



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Band Fic, Depression, Drug Use, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Music, Musicians, Panic Attacks, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco References, Pre-Split Panic at the Disco, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Ryden, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoperaticxskeletonsx/pseuds/xoperaticxskeletonsx
Summary: 1st POV, Ryan'sStruggling with performance anxiety on their new World Tour, Ryan Ross ventures into the realm of drugs as a way to treat his anxiety and depression. Brendon Urie is a helpful friend who comforts Ryan in his time of need and they soon grow close, sparking a relationship, despite Ryan's nerves about it. What ensues is a long battle of addiction, recovery and learning to let love in.





	1. Chapter 1

The world is black. The space is silent. And, finally, there's some peace. 

Peace and quiet in this dark and noisy place. 

The black swirls around me. A calming presence. It’s truly magical right now. This isn’t anything like what I expected. 

However, my peace and quiet is interrupted before I've truly begun to embrace it. People are hovering over me, furiously moving about. I don't know them. There’s a beeping that makes my head pulse and ache with every chime. Wires are strung everywhere on me. I don’t know where I am. 

I blink because everything is a little blurry, but nothing clears up. My body starts seizing up in pain and my stomach is churning agonizingly. 

I have to puke. 

With the fractional amount of strength I have, I lean up to puke. The people hovering over me lend a helping hand in guiding me to a trash bin. I puke and puke. My throat burns. 

Then, everything turns black again. But, this time it's not peaceful. This time it's hell. 

 

\---

 

“Resting heart rate is 70 bpm.” 

“That's pretty good.”

“I think he's stirring. Oh my god, he's stirring!”

I don't really know where I am. Everything's still so dark. My mouth tastes like vomit and copper and my body aches like I've been run over by a train multiple times. 

A sliver of light pierces my view and that’s when I realize that I've begun to open my eyes. My body’s beginning to respond but my brain is waiting to comprehend it all. 

My eyes peel back to reveal white. White walls, white sheets, white everything. I grimace back against the bed. It's too bright. It's worsening the migraine in my head. 

“Hey,” a voice coos softly, but I don't know who it belongs to, “you're okay. Oh my god, you're okay.” The voice whimpers and I manage to look away from the white jacket before my eyes. 

It takes me awhile but I manage to roll my neck enough to see where the voice is coming from. 

It's a person, although I figured as much. There's something familiar about him. I'm sure I know him because he's crying as he stares at me. 

He has dark brown eyes, glistening with tears. Dark hair falls over his eyes but he doesn’t push it away. I almost have the urge to do it for him, although that seems like an odd urge. It's a good thing I can't move my body very easily. 

There's others too. A man and a woman standing behind him. They're familiar too but I can't quite place them. 

The dark haired man moves closer, his warm hand resting on mine. His eyes widen a little in shock before wrapping his fingers around my whole hand. 

I just blink at him. 

“Here you go, sir, drink some water.” The nurse says as she shoves a straw into my mouth. I suck on it weakly, but I'm thankful to get to wash some of this vomit taste out of my mouth. 

“His hands are cold.” The dark haired boy says, almost in anguish but the nurses ignore him. 

The woman behind dark haired boy is sobbing, although she’s trying to mask it. The man is stoic. He looks eerily familiar and it sends a shiver up my spine. 

The nurse takes my water away and I frown in disappointment. 

“Ryan,” 

I snap my head at the sound of my name. My mother. Yes, that’s who the woman is. Damn, I haven’t seen her in years. 

Mom caresses my face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you're alive.” She whispers. 

My dad looks down. That’s obviously the older man next to her is my father. Although, I hate him. I don’t remember why but I hate him. 

Dark haired boy-- no wait, Brendon. Yes, Brendon. Brendon squeezes my hand and it's in that instant that I remember he loves me. He loves me and I love him. 

I blink around at the hospital room I'm in. There are needles in my arms and I just now notice the oxygen tank that's up my nose. The oxygen is cold when I breathe in. 

I didn't die. 

Why didn't I die?

 

\---

 

The rain mocks me.

It's falling around me, splashing onto my windshield in heavy droplets. I don't bother to turn on the windshield wipers to get it to go away. Let it mock me. Let the raindrops fall. I won't cry. The sky can cry all it wants for me, but I refuse. 

I have nothing against crying. Like all other emotions, crying is natural. Although, I wish it wasn't. I hate emotions. Emotions make everything complicated. I want to live an uncomplicated life. Is that too much to ask for?

The rain continues to mock me, especially as it gets harder for me to push my feelings down. But, I won't cry. I won't. I won't cry for her. What a stupid, illogical reason to cry. Over love. Well, I never was in love. I think I cared for her, but I never gave her my heart. My heart is my own. I'll be damned if anyone gets a hold of it. That's what makes it even more illogical to cry over something like this. 

It's unfortunate. Unfortunate circumstance. She showed her humanness. Unable to resist temptation. It's unfortunate she was so weak-willed.

Inhaling, I decide to leave this place. I can't be here anymore. She's said her piece. I've said mine. We called it quits. And, now it's time I leave. So, I do. I wipe away the accusatory rain off the window and make my way out of her vicinity. I drive far away. It's not that I'm heartbroken but, I think my heart isn't understanding what my head knows. My heart's embarrassed. My head's over it.

I turn off the radio. The need for silence is great. Silence is good. Maybe the silence will quiet my heart. 

The driveway I find myself in is not my own. Nor, do I know why I chose this. But, I did. 

Somehow... for some reason. 

I get out of the car, the rain pelting onto my head, soaking my hair. A shiver runs down my spine, but I couldn't care less. Let the rain fall down, drenching me in mockery. See if I care.

Perhaps, this is also stupid. Perhaps, my heart is so illogical that it's making me do stupid things. I stare at the door, shivering in the rain and contemplating. I shouldn't disturb him. He's asleep. He needs to rest. He doesn't need to be burdened by me. But, I can't go home. She's all around back home. If I go home, then I'll be surrounded by the one person I dislike almost as much as I hate myself. No. Going home is not an option.

I raise my hand and knock twice. If he sleeps through this, then I'll stay in the car for the night. If he sleeps through this, that's alright.

I wait. And, wait. There's nothing. No sound but the rain splashing onto the sidewalk. It's almost peaceful in a way. 

I almost give up on waiting, when there's a click. The unmistakable sound of a lock being undone, then the door pulls open. Surprisingly, he doesn't look like he's been sleeping. Despite, the midnight hour, he's awake. Of course, he is. 

His brown eyes blink at me with a hint of confusion. He quirks a dark eyebrow at me in question. "Hey." He greets. He's wearing pajamas. A simple gray cotton t-shirt and some kind of thin, superhero themed pants. I forget sometimes that he's a total dork. 

"Hi." I gulp and some rainwater gets into my mouth. It tastes different from normal water and I panic for a moment that I'm going to be poisoned by the pollution that's inside each raindrop. But, then he speaks and I still. 

"Get inside, before you become waterlogged." He commands, with a laugh to his voice.

I obey his request, walking inside of his small condo. He shuts the door behind me and I realize that I've never been inside of his place before. Not since he bought it. It was pretty recent, if I recall correctly. Finally, getting out of the parents house. We have money now, so it’s pretty easy to do whatever you want. 

The lighting is dim, a single lamp is on by the couch. His living room looks well lived in. His couch is old and beaten up, with guitars and papers scattered on top of it.

He's been writing. Writing what, I have no clue. But, I can recognize when a musician is knee deep in a song. My room looks the same as his couch. 

"I'm sorry for barging in like this," I clear my throat. 

Brendon shakes his head, a warm smile is on his face. It almost looks like he's happy to see me. "Nah, don't worry about it. I can't sleep anyway." He says. "It's nice to have some company." He walks over to his couch and pulls some papers off one of the cushions. "So, can you not sleep, either?" He asks, putting the paper on his coffee table and setting the guitars up next to the couch. 

He leaves the room, walking down the hallway and disappearing from my view. I hesitate, unsure of whether or not I should follow him. "Um... I-I guess you could say that." I shrug, standing by the entryway still. 

He returns just as I'm convinced he meant for me to follow him. He has a stack of towels in his hands and I instantly realize that his disappearance was to ensure that I'm not dripping water all over his new condo. He walks over and instantly drapes a towel over my head. The towel covers my face, shielding him from view and I chuckle, softly. I also forgot that he's an idiot. He laughs. His laugh is loud when he really finds something funny. It's a charming, yet ridiculous kind of laugh. 

Another towel is wrapped around my shoulders and I pull off the one from my face. He looks amused, a silly smirk on his lips. 

"No!" He whines and puts the towel back on top of my head, but he doesn't let it cover my face. Instead, he begins to rub my head, drying my hair off. I roll my eyes, but don't move. I've learned better than to stop him, the stubborn asshole. 

He finishes and pulls the towel off, staring at what I'm sure is a mess of hair and grins. "There." He says. "Come on." He urges, pulling me by the forearm over to the couch he's recently cleaned off. He sets a towel down on one of the cushions and I take the hint, sitting on top of it. I'm not all that drenched, but I can't guarantee there won't be water seeping into the couch if I sit down. 

He sits on the other cushion. His face is more serious than usual. His plump lips pressed together in a thin line. "So, what brings you to my doorstep in the rain, Ryan?" He asks.

I shrug, not really wanting to get into it. But, I know he deserves an explanation for all this too. I don't know how he knows. But, his eyes are full of empathy and his tone is sympathetic. He knows this isn't a good visit. But, then again, I don't make midnight visits to anyone. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this isn't a good visit. I gulp. "My girlfriend," I say simply.

He raises his eyebrows, slightly. "Jac, huh?" He asks. He doesn't sound surprised and it irks me somehow. He blinks at me twice before speaking again. "What'd she do?"

I laugh. Not because it's funny. Just because I feel so uncomfortable to do much else. I take a sharp inhale and look away from Brendon, shaking my head. "More like who’d she do..." I mutter.

It takes him a second for it all to click. The cheating and the breakup. I'm not looking at him, but I know when he's got it figured out. "Motherfucker." He says, icily.

I shrug my shoulders, my eyes still facing forward. I don't know how to respond to that. He's angry, like me, so I guess that's good. 

"You found that out, tonight?" He asks and I don't know how he knows these things. How he can figure things out so quickly. It's something I've always admired. He and I both have keen intuition. Sometimes, I don't have to speak and he understands. And, some days, I can tell exactly when he's faking a smile. I can tell when he's struggling. There's a brightness that dims in his smile. A bit sunshine that fades from his eyes. 

I nod my head, hesitantly.

"Fuck..." he mutters under his breath and I brave a look at him. He's shaking his head in frustration, and his lips are pulled tight, the way he does when he's angry. "I'm so sorry." He says to me, staring at me with eyes full of concern.

My stomach clenches at his pity. I don't need it. I don't need to be pitied. I'm not heartbroken. My girlfriend cheated on me. I was not enough for her. What else is new? "Don't be," I say, my tone has a bit of bite to it that wasn't intentional.

His eyes darken like he's a bit hurt by me, but he nods his head, anyway. "Okay." He says. "Do... you want to talk about it?" He asks. 

I shake my head. "No, I'd rather not." I insist.

He frowns but doesn't push it any further. "Cool. Well, come on, let me get you some dry clothes." He says, standing up from the couch. He must've noticed I was shivering. Or maybe not. But, I stand and follow him anyway, because I could use something warm. 

He leads me back to his bedroom, walking over to his dresser. He pulls out another dorky pair of pajama pants, tossing them on his unmade bed. His room is messier than ever, but that's just Brendon. Always has been. "Here. I'm sure you'll fit into those." He says with a laugh.

I smile a little. Because it's true. I'm pretty certain that by now, there's no pant small enough on this earth to fit my skeletal legs. My entire body is thinner than a wafer. I hate it. 

"There's a t-shirt." He says, throwing it on the bed too. "The Beatles." He says and gives me a wink. 

He remembers. Of course, he does. When you've known someone for years, you tend to remember facts like the other person's favorite band. I give him a small smile and he grins back at me. 

"Do you need some underwear?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

I shake my head. "Nah, my boxers didn't get wet. I'm fine." I say.

He nods his head. "Cool."

I shed the towel from around my shoulders and walk over to the bed, undoing my belt buckle and throwing it onto the bed.

"Um, I'll, uh, I'll leave you to it." He rushes out his words, his cheeks redder than they were before. He exits the room, closing the door behind him. 

It strikes me as being a little odd. We don't usually change in front of each other, but we have a few times. It was never weird. Neither one of us is gay, so it doesn't really matter. But, whatever. Let him go. I strip off my wet clothes and change into the ones he gave me. He's shorter than me, so the pants are above my ankles, but the fit is loose. Go figure. The Beatles shirt fits nicely, though. 

I open up the door and peek out. Brendon’s leaning against the wall, his brow knitted together like he's deep in thought. "All clear," I tell him. He jumps a little like I've startled him out of his dreamworld. 

He immediately puts on a grin. "Cool." He says and walks past me, back into his bedroom. "I was just about to head to bed when you knocked."

"Oh," I bite my lip in regret, "I'm sorry."

He laughs for a moment and shakes his head. "No, don't be. I don't care." He flops onto the bed and grins. "I'd much rather talk to you than sleep." He beams at me. 

I stare at him, cautiously, wondering if he really means that or not. I can't believe he does, but if he wants to lie because he thinks that'd make me feel better, then I'll let him. I inhale, deeply. "Well, I don't know how much talking we'll do," I admit. "I'm exhausted." 

He shrugs like it doesn't make a difference to him. "That's fine. That's understandable." He assures me. He cocks his head to the side and I notice that his eyes look concerned again. He's pitying me, again. "You sure, you don't want to talk about it?" 

"I'm sure." 

"Do you want a hug?" He offers.

I almost laugh at him, because he knows how much I hate stuff like that. But, he seems genuine and it almost makes me want to say yes because a real hug sounds somewhat pleasant. Especially, if it's from him. But, I shake my head. "I just want to sleep."

He looks disappointed for a moment, but he nods his head, quickly. "Yeah, that's fine. Hop in." He says, pulling the sheets on the opposite side of the bed back. 

I slide under the covers and lay my head down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling and taking a deep breath. I'm not heartbroken. I'm not. I'm just a little angry. And, very, very, disappointed. 

But, this is good. Brendon’s cheering me up. He's making the anger dissipate.

I pull the sheets up to my neck and take a glance over at Brendon, a small smile on my lips. "Goodnight." I murmur.

He's beaming at me, tucking himself into the sheets. He nods his head. "Goodnight, Ryan." 

***

Empty. 

Apathy. 

Anhedonia. 

I can label how I feel with as many words as I can find but it does nothing at improving my mood. 

It has nothing to do with my cheating my girlfriend. No, this feels deeper than that. A kind of deeper pain that's manifested into an apathetic outlook on life. 

Jac’s cheating made me angry for a while but that's all passed. I've moved on. Waste no more time on it. But, it's the emptiness that's replaced everything that I can't stop contemplating. 

It's happened before. This hollow feeling. It comes around often every now and again. This time however, it feels worse than I ever felt it. 

I wish it would stop. The pain, the absence of it, the images in my head, the evil whisperings in my ear. 

I need the shit to stop. Someway. Somehow. 

I haven't really slept much. Quite the insomniac most nights. 

We go back on tour today. We had a few days off. Just a few in our hometown to relax and chill. Rejuvenate. But I feel just as weary as I did before we took the break. 

I stayed with Brendon for only a few days before I went home. A small apartment I bought myself. I had the money and coming home to my Dad didn't sound like a good idea. That fucker barely wants to see me most days. I don’t want to see him. It’s a mutual thing. 

I have guitars and papers scattered everywhere. Pieces of lyrics and scratched out melodies. Restless nights spent slaving over a song that didn't have promise. 

They never do anymore. 

We have only one album. We've been touring it for awhile now and everyone's starting to wonder what is next for us. What's the next album? What's the next step?

Problem is, we were so surprised and caught up in the whirlwind of success that our first record had, we haven't done much else but tour. 

I don't want us to fizzle out. This has been my goal for years. Make music. Create. Fame has been a wonderful surprise, but I feel stagnant. 

We go on tour. We play the show, we greet fans, we get back on the bus and repeat in a different city. Some days it switches up a bit and we get the day off to chill or we have interviews all day. But it's mutually all the same. All the same day blurred together month after month. 

I'm ready to create. To make something else. The problem is, how do you outdo yourself when you poured everything you had into an album?

Maybe that's why I feel hollow too. Because nothing I've ever come up with has been good enough. Nothing spectacular. 

I look at my calendar. I haven't crossed anything off in months. I have scribbles of tour dates on it, but no x’s. A calendar looks a little vacant when it doesn't have them. 

I pick up the sharpie and start crossing off all the dates we've just performed. Cleveland, Phoenix, Las Vegas. All great shows. Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston. 

X. X. X. 

Thirty seven down. Only three more to go. 

I can’t believe I made it. 

My phone rings, buzzing obnoxiously in my pocket. I always put it on vibrate. The ringtones they put on these things are fucking ridiculous. Not to mention, annoying as all hell. I can’t stand it. It gives me a headache. Or, worsens the headache I usually already have. 

I pull out my phone, flip it open and press it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Mr. Ross? The car is waiting for you outside.” 

I say a thank you and a quick goodbye, hanging up on the car service. Grabbing my suitcase and jacket, I head for the door. Only three more shows back on the road and then it’s home sweet home.

Although, I wonder if it really is home sweet home. I lock my apartment door and feel a strange twist in my guts. This place isn’t my home. It was supposed to be, but it feels empty. I’m lonely. I hate people. I’m a complete loner who isolates himself at all possible, and yet, I feel alone. What a paradox I am. No wonder no one likes me much. 

I walk down the stairs and exit the outside door of my apartment complex. A nice, sleek, black car is waiting with a man standing outside of it. Very official. We’re all professional now. I always forget. 

He opens the door for me and takes my suitcase off my hands. I murmur a thank you, although I’m so quiet I’m sure he didn’t hear. I wonder how many people think I’m rude simply because they couldn’t hear me when I was being polite? Probably too many to count. Oh well. 

I climb inside of the car, sitting down on the nice leather seats. That’s when I realize there are people in the car with me. My bandmates. Brendon, Spencer and Jon. 

They look exhausted too. I manage a smile at them and then stare into my lap. 

I don’t speak. Not that that’s a strange occurrence. I rarely speak to anyone. And, after months spent cramped in a tour bus, it’s hard to find new things to talk about. 

The car drops us off and we all exit the car, slowly and exhaustingly. Maybe I can get a nap whilst on the road today. That’d be nice. 

The tour bus has been cleaned. That’s the first thing I notice when I step onto it. No more shit lying around. Food, guitars, dirty clothes, empty beer bottles. It’s all gone. I like it. The cleanliness. It feels like a clean slate even though we’ve been at it for months. 

Jon flops down onto a couch and Spencer chooses to sit on the couch opposite. 

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to play the show tonight, man. Shit, I’m tired.” Spencer groans. 

Jon laughs. “Me too.” 

“When we get onstage, it’ll be alright. It always is.” Brendon notes, but his voice is lacking its usual cheeriness. 

The bus starts up, jostles us around as it begins to move. I sigh, quietly and retreat to my coffin. 

I don’t feel the need to socialize right now. Isolation it is. 

I climb into my bunk, laying down and staring up at the wooden ceiling. 

Have you ever thought about why you're doing the things that you are? Like, why did I choose to wear this shirt today? Or, why do I never feel like I’m ever going to be good enough? Or, why did I even get out of bed this morning?

 

I’m strange, I know. Maybe, I’m the only one that has these thoughts. I feel like my life is somehow purposeless. Sure, I’m at the top of my game, playing stadiums and huge tours and traveling all across the planet. But, when all your days bleed together and you never stop feeling tired, you start to wonder why you're doing the things you are.

Am I helping people? Or, am I hurting them?

Is this how I thought my life would be? Is this how I want my life to be? 

I think about these questions a lot, but I don’t ever find the answers. It’s frustrating, because, some days, I’m totally fine with my life and I’m proud of all that I’ve accomplished. This was something I had wanted since I got my first guitar. (It was a shitty, beat up Fender and it sounded awful.) But, some days I wonder if everything was all worth it. Some days I wonder if life is worth it.

 

A sharp knock sounds by my head and I jerk, startled by the sound. It startles me out of my vivid imagination and for that I am grateful. 

“Hey.” Brendon says, offering me a gentle yet weary smile. 

“Hi.” I reply, my head turned to face him. 

“You alright?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. 

I nod, shrugging my shoulders. “Yeah.” 

He nods, his face deep in thought. “Okay. Just checking.” 

I press my lips together. He thinks I’m isolating myself because I’m still torn up over Jac. Quite the contrary. I’m torn up because of my own existence. Because I’m alive. 

“I’m just tired.” I give him a somewhat true explanation. I hope and pray that it’s enough for him. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Me too.”

Silence. Neither one of us fills it.

His eyes look sad. Maybe he’s sad too. My heart pangs a little at the thought. I hope he’s not. I hope he doesn’t feel this kind of sadness. 

He notices my staring and gives me a forced smile. And just like that, he’s gone. 

He leaves and I’m left with my thoughts. 

What a terrible idea that is.


	2. Chapter 2

The smoke dances around, twisting and turning. Floating higher and higher up to the ceiling.. I envy it. Most days, I long to be smoke. Light and airy; disappearing without a trace. How wonderful would it be to float away from the burdens that are weighing you down. Without gravity, without hurt, or pain. 

But, I think I'm more like the cigarette. The more I inhale, the more I burn out. 

If there was a way to become as light as smoke and dance away from my fucked up mind, then I would become that in an instant. But being human - being alive - means you're tethered to Earth. You’re always grounded. You’re forced to feel every emotion. Every bit of pain. Every bit of numbness. 

I hate it.

I want to leave this place. Some days, death looks far more appealing than life. Although, I’m too scared of oblivion to actually leave this hellhole. It’s a true dilemma.

I stub out my cigarette in the ashtray, hoping it’s calmed me enough to play the show. The nerves aren’t so bad tonight. The last show we played, I puked. Thank god, that’s not happening again. 

“How much time we got?” Jon asks, ruffling with his messy hair. 

“Ten minutes.” Brendon answers. He’s shirtless, not having finished putting on his show clothes. His thin, yet chiseled torso is displayed for all to see.

He’s usually shirtless and I never could fathom how someone can feel that comfortable with their bodies. I certainly will never be that confident. 

I admire that about him. He’s a free spirit. My spirit is contained. It’s my choice, of course. Maybe that’s why I long to be smoke so badly. My fantasy is to float away though my reality is the opposite. 

The stench of weed slowly spreads throughout the room and I turn my head to where Jon has lit up a joint.

Jon gets pre-show nerves, usually needing to find a way to chill out by smoking a joint. Brendon says he gets anxious as well, but it’s different for them. They thrive onstage. Their nerves are left in the dressing room the moment their feet touch the stage. They live for it. I don’t thrive on anything. 

I heard once that a little bit of nerves is good, as long as it doesn’t follow you on the stage. Well, mine follows me everywhere I go so what am I supposed to do? 

“Five minutes to go! How’s my favorite foursome doing?” Our manager, Mark, asks, bursting in the door with a bright smile. 

“Exhausted.” Spencer groans, flopping onto the couch and snatching the joint away from Jon. 

“Eh, never mind that. The crowd out there is massive. You’ll get your energy.” Mark beams at us. He’s always pumping us up. That’s what managers do. 

“How you doing, sport?” He walks over to me, now and I grit my teeth. He annoys me most of the time. “Throwing up again?” He asks, a nervous edge to his voice. 

I shake my head. “No. Too tired to.” I speak, quietly. 

“What’s with everyone being tired?” He asks, laughing. “Any of youse sleep on the break?” Mark’s from New York, the accent obvious. 

“I would’ve if it weren’t for the insomnia.” I mumble, grumpily. 

Mark’s expression changes to true concern for a moment and he leans in, gray mustache closer to me than I’d like. He smells like beer. “Still having insomnia?” 

I nod. I told him on the last leg of the tour that I wasn’t sleeping. It was worse last time. My heart was beating too fast to sleep. Now, I just don’t feel like sleeping. I’m too lazy to sleep, imagine that. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you what, I’ll get you some sleeping pills. You’ll sleep with those, alright?” He raises his bushy eyebrows. 

I gaze at him in intrigue, my eyebrows lifting slightly. I hadn’t even thought of sleeping pills. I nod. “Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Anything for you kid.” He winks and pulls back. “Alright, you stars, let’s get you onstage.”

Jon puts out the joint and stands up, cracking his neck. “Let’s rock!” He grins.

Spencer laughs and grabs his drumsticks, drumming on his thighs. “Fuck yeah.” He’s the first to exit, followed by Jon. 

“C’mon, we’ve got this.” Brendon says, grinning as he walks in time with me.

I give him a half smile and shrug. It’s all I can give today.

He wraps an arm around my shoulder as we walk down the hallway and towards the stage. “We always kill it.” He chuckles.

I feel a slight calm start to fill my bones. Maybe it’s because I believe him, or maybe it’s just because of him. His presence is calming, despite how excitable he is. 

“Yeah.” I say, quietly. A quiet murmur of agreement as we walk to the dark backstage.

I’m given my guitar and I quickly put it on, feeling glad to not feel so naked now. I’ve got something to hide behind. Something to keep the crowd from me. A barrier. 

Brendon grabs a mic, and Jon grabs his bass. Then, we walk onstage.

The crowd cheers.

It’s loud. That’s all I know. But, it sounds as if they’re miles away from here. 

Spencer steps up to her drums. Jon takes his place on the left, Brendon in the middle, and then I’m there. Standing at my place. Mic stand in front of me. The lights are still dark but the crowd saw us. 

My heart is beating too fast. Too damn fast. Perhaps, I’ll have a heart attack. Right here, onstage. A heart attack at the ripe age of twenty. Imagine that. 

I don’t have a heart attack, though. Despite, my heart’s deepest desires. The show ends just as briskly as it began. And, I was alive and awake the whole show. Unfortunately. 

It’s almost eleven o’clock by the time we get back to the dressing room.

“Is there a party going on nearby?” Spencer asks, still somehow feeling up for a party after everything.

“No, no, it’s back on the bus for you all.” Mark protests after telling us to hurry up and get dressed. Apparently, we have a long drive to make.

“We can just have a party in the bus later.” Jon chuckles, stripping off his sweaty shirt and hanging it up on the costume rack. Our wardrobe department is always bitching at us to keep everything clean. 

“I bought a six pack of beer.” Spencer says, stripping off his pants to put on some comfier ones. 

I walk over to the hangers, feeling a little self-conscious to just change in front of everyone so I just try to be as invisible as possible.

I strip down to my boxers, hanging up each one of my items of clothing carefully. I didn’t sweat much onstage. I never do. My nerves kind of make all my sweat glands close. 

“Can you pass me that hanger?” Brendon asks, suddenly appearing beside me, half naked. His hair is wet from sweat. His nerves do the opposite to his sweat glands.

“Sure.” I say, blinking at his torso for a moment before kicking into gear and passing a hanger. 

“You did good out there.” He comments, looking at me as I fumble with a pair of jeans. 

I slide on my jeans and button them up, shrugging my shoulders.

“You looked like you kind of enjoyed it.” Brendon lifts his dark eyebrows, in… hope? I can’t tell.

I pull on a Beatles t-shirt, the same one Brendon gave me earlier this week, and shrug again, indifferently. 

“Well, I thought we did good tonight.” He says, beaming at me, still half naked, a towel wrapped around his shoulders to dry all the sweat. “You should be proud.” 

“Thanks.” I mumble in response.

“Oi, you two. Hurry up.” Jon calls out to us.

I sigh, softly and nod my head, slipping on my sneakers.

“Brendon, jesus, put on some fucking clothes and stop flirting with Ryan.” Spencer rolls his eyes and exits, swiftly.

I furrow my eyebrows and glance back at Brendon. 

Brendon’s cheeks look a little redder but he’s rolling his eyes. “Shut up, you idiot.” He laughs, quickly. “I’m only naked because I’m cooling off.” He explains to me. There’s something in his eyes, a little fear or nervousness. It flickers to a smile as he goes to pull on his clothes. I’m left wondering what that expression means.

When we’re all dressed, we’re rushed to the bus. Screaming fans await us outside. We have a schedule to keep, unfortunately, or else we’d have stayed and signed some things. 

I like that. Talking with the fans. Mostly, because I’m amazed they actually like us. Or more, that they like me. I can get Brendon and Spencer and Jon. They’re sweet or they’re talkative, or at least have the sense to not make things awkward. Then, there’s me. The quiet cynic. I guess some people find that attractive. I’ll never understand those people, although, I am grateful.

“Anyone up for a beer and some video games?” Spencer asks, going to the fridge. 

“Sure.” Brendon grants, shrugging his shoulders. Jon nods in agreement. 

“You want one, Ryan?” Spencer asks.

I shake my head. 

“You sure?” He tries again.  
“No, thanks.” I say and retreat to my bunk.

I climb into the bed, feeling a weight of sorrow expand in my chest. It’s been there all day, but leaving my friends to their mini party makes it multiply by a million.

I’m the worst friend in the world. Trading their company for the thoughts in my head. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy. Not when their laughter becomes my only lullaby. 

Why is this happening to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, there will be longer ones in the future. And, I promise the story will get more interesting as time goes on. Thanks for reading. See you next week!


	3. Chapter 3

I shake awake quickly, blinking around at the ceiling of the bunk. I can’t tell whether I’ve awoken because of a dream, or because the tour bus jolted me awake. The bus bounces again, my body almost leaving the mattress. It was definitely not a dream.

I groan, my head beginning to pound. I already know I’ve not gotten enough sleep. Of course, there’s no use trying to go back to sleep now. I never fall back asleep. 

I stay in bed a few moments longer, rubbing my eyes and stretching my achy limbs. I relax my body against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. I feel hollow, somehow. I feel like this sometimes, especially when I go on tour. It’s like my body is not filled with blood, and my bones aren’t supporting me. I am empty. Entirely drained of everything that makes me human. I feel like I could cry, but I don’t. I’m empty of tears too.

Performing makes me feel less hollow. The adrenaline rush, the nerves, even the fear. It’s all what makes a human, human. But, days like this, where all you can feel is nothing but a stale sense of being alive… that’s when I feel the most numb.

My stomach isn’t growling, but I know I should feed myself. Maybe that’ll help me feel fulfilled. I maneuver my way out of bed, trying to stay balanced as I climb out of my bunk. 

I step out of my bed, walking past all the rows of bunks and the bathroom, until I reach the kitchen. I wobble along the hallway, balancing on walls when I can. Apparently, the roads between Arizona and Nevada need some repairs.

I’m the first one up, apparently, because no one else is sitting on the couches at the front. I don’t know what time it is, but I know we’ll have a show later. Like we always do. End of tour. Last one.

I try to find something to eat, but I’m too wobbly. I grab a banana from the counter before tumbling over to one of the couches.

It’s strange… when you get into one of these voids. A void where you can’t feel. Numbed to existing. It’s strange because… that’s usually when I want to feel the most. But, I don't know how to begin.

I hear the bathroom door open, letting me know that I'm not the only one on this godforsaken bus. For a moment, I hoped it would make me feel better. I hoped it would pull me out of my existential crisis, but it doesn't. It only cures my loneliness. 

Brendon emerges from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He looks tired, with his bedhead and sleepy eyes. He gives me a small smile as he moves to the kitchen. Somehow, he balances better than I do. I was falling all over the place, but he's almost completely still. 

"Good morning." He greets, his voice is hoarse and thick with sleep. 

"Morning." I hum in response. I don't bother adding a good before it. There's nothing good about this morning. Why lie to him?

My eyes trail after him as he grabs a bagel from the bag, stuffing it into his mouth as he closes up the bag. He pulls the bagel away, not bothering to toast it or butter it or anything. He moves over, plopping down next to me. 

"What's up?" He asks. 

"Nothing." I admit, raising my shoulders a bit. "Just... thinking." 

"Ah, contemplating the existence of the universe and humanity again, huh?" He laughs, softly. 

I smile a little to myself, turning to look in my lap. "Yeah..." I admit. He was spot on. Eerily accurate. 

"I knew it." He says, proudly. 

I can't help but chuckle at his arrogant smile. It’s somehow charming. No wonder all the girls love him. 

“Have you figured out the key to the Universe, then?” He asks, raising his dark eyebrows high, chewing on his bagel. 

I smile, softly and scratch the back of my head. “No. It’s still just as confusing as ever.” I explain. If only you could figure something like that out. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so confused. I would know what we are all meant for. What all this means. I just want to comprehend the complexities of life and death. And, I don't really think that’s too much to ask for.

“Dammit.” Brendon shakes his head, dramatizing his disappointment. But, I know he wants to learn the secrets of the universe too. He may not seem like it with his excitable and endless energy, but he’s smart. He thinks about things like that. Just like I do.

“I know. I’m very sorry. If I figure anything out, I’ll let you know.” I tease, shaking my head.

“Perfect.” He says and I twist my head to look back at him. His dark eyes look softer now, not as sleepy as before. Although, there’s still a dreamy quality to them. I don't know why, but it makes me feel comforted. 

\----

We don’t have peace and quiet for long because soon everyone else is waking up. And, then the bus stops and we’re forced out because apparently we already reached our destination. We climb outside, finish soundcheck like we always do. Routine. Or maybe it’s programming. It certainly feels robotic sometimes.

I find the bathroom. Fall to the floor, chest heaving, blood pumping. Panicking. 

Sometimes, I really hate this job. Especially, on nights like this.

I hear voices outside the door. They're talking about me. I'm sure of it. They always do. But they don't understand it. 

My heart is still hammering in my chest, my hands shaky. But the worst of it has passed. The feeling of death clawing at my heels. The shortness of breath. Now I just feel tired and shaky. And sick to my stomach. 

Panic. 

Raw, real, unadulterated panic. 

I hate being this way. Cursed to love the thing that destroys me the most. 

A soft knock sounds on the door. I'm slumped in the corner of the dressing room bathroom, finding some grounding. It's nicer on the floor. The tile is cold and the air seems easier to inhale. The air gets too heavy for me sometimes. 

“It's open.” I call out, though it's quiet. I'm always quiet. 

The door opens though, despite my muteness. Brendon pokes his head in, a warm smile on his lips. “Hi.” He greets. “Doing ok?”

I want to laugh at the question but I don't have the energy to. I shake my head. 

Brendon walks in further, letting the door shut behind him, choosing to sit next to me. “I'm sorry.” 

I shrug my shoulders. My stomach is still churning but I'm better. A little bit. 

“Breathing can help.” Brendon says, his voice soft and comforting like he's truly trying to help me. He's genuine, that one. Most people aren't. He's a rarity. “Taking deep breaths. It helps me, at least.” 

I instantaneously take a deep inhale. He's right. I know he is. It's just hard to remember in the moment. “Thanks.”

We're silent. For a long time, we sit there in silence. He doesn't urge me to speak and for that, I'm grateful. I should show him my gratefulness somehow, but I've never been good at that. I keep my hands to myself. A hug might be expected, but I was never a fan of those kinds of things. All I can do is hope Brendon can somehow read my mind. 

He's got dark eyeliner on. I didn't notice it before but now he's so close to me, it's hard to miss. They bring out his eyes a little better. He looks sexier with it. Darker. Sultrier. Although, I think he looks just fine without it. 

“We go on in five minutes!” Someone calls through the door. 

A rush fills my bones and my stomach flips. I inhale, sharply. 

“Hey,” Brendon’s voice is calm and sympathetic. I'd be upset with him over all this pity if it weren't helping calm my stomach. “It's alright.”

I stand up, shakily but nod my head. 

Brendon stands too, placing a hand on my shoulder. I can't believe how nice it feels. He gazes deep into my eyes, a gentle insistence in his eyes. “We’re going to rock this.” He grins. 

I only nod, dumbly because I can't do much else. But I believe him. For what it's worth. 

We step out into the dressing room. My band mates are furiously messing with their costumes.

“Five minutes, come on, everyone.” Mark, our manager, urges, opening up the door. 

It’s the same thing every day. The nerves, the performance, the ‘glory’ as Mark calls it. 

Yeah, having panic attacks every night feels fucking glorious. 

We all grab whatever gear we have in the room and leave swiftly, exiting to the hall. 

“Ryan.” Mark calls me back with a soft, stern voice. 

I stop and turn to him. This isn't normal and it's making my stomach churn worse. I can't handle when things go different than how I imagined them. “What?”

“I got you those pills. They'll put you right to sleep.” Mark assures me. 

I raise my eyebrows high. A miracle pill is close to what he's describing because I haven't gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. 

“Zack has them. Make sure you find him after the show.” Mark tells me. “Alright now go on.” He nods his head towards the stage.

I blink at him, still in a bit of shock but I nod my head. “Yeah, okay.” I say, dumbly and run to catch up with the rest of my band. 

Somehow, I get onstage. A guitar in my hand, a mic stand in front of me. The nerves have calmed a little. Perhaps, it's the hope of getting some sleep. Or maybe it's because it's the final show and I can get to relax after this. I’m not too sure. 

The time passes by so quickly, I'm not entirely sure I was awake for most of it. But, I must've been. I performed and didn't end up on the ground so I must've been awake. 

I stare out into the sea of people and smile. They're cheering. I can hear them and they love us. It's unbelievable. So many people enjoying our music. I don't know if I've ever felt this happy during a performance. It's strange. But I don't hate it. 

Everyone's singing my lyrics back to me like it matters. Like it means something. I've never been more honored in my life. 

We’re finishing up our set before I know it. I’m sweaty, which is odd, and tired but feeling more alive than ever. We start the next song, a favorite of mine. Brendon likes it too. He always plays this one up onstage. It makes every girl in the audience cream their pants.

I like to watch him perform. He’s standing beside me and you can just tell that he’s having the time of his life. Every performance isn’t just for the hell of it. He puts thought into it. He puts heart.

I glance over him on the chorus and he’s singing out to the crowd. Singing my song. Singing my words. Just like the fans in the audience. 

Then he's grinning at me. He turns to look at me and grins. And I, for some reason, can't help but smile back. His eyes grow darker; they're almost sultry. Or maybe that's the eyeliner. 

He’s electric onstage. No wonder all the girls drool over him. His melodic voice, his sweet eyes and sexy smile. It's no wonder at all.

His smile turns to the side, melting into one of the most seductive smirks I've ever seen. My stomach twists, like how it feels when you go over a steep incline on a rollercoaster.

I look away, back down to my fingers on the fretboard of my guitar. B minor. Then to A, then G. Back to B minor. I just need to focus on playing. But I don't. And soon, I'm looking back up at Brendon.

He's gotten closer now, only about a foot away with that insane smirk still on his face. He closes the distance between us, leaning his elbow on my shoulder as he turns to sing to the crowd. They sound louder than they did before.

I focus on playing again as the second verse begins, watching my fingers move over the strings. Brendon’s voice is in my ear and the crowd is roaring. It's so loud.

As we draw nearer to the chorus, I turn to look over at him. I'm surprised that he's already staring at me, tapping his foot to the drumbeat. He stops singing, I stop playing. We're both waiting for Spencer to hit the cymbals so we can begin the chorus. Suddenly, Brendon’s eyes leave mine and he's leaning in. He pecks my cheek quickly, then Spencer comes in with the drums and Brendon jumps away, starting to sing again.

I don’t know why but I'm smiling like an idiot the entire chorus.

 

\---

 

“First tour is done!” Jon grins, high fiving everyone backstage as we towel off all of the sweat on our bodies. 

I'm not bothering with celebrations. I need something. My eyes search for Zack in the dark. The roadie is conveniently missing right now, which is doing nothing good for me. 

Where the hell is he?

“Congrats, man, we did it.” Brendon says, stepping in front of me. 

I blink at him, wishing he wasn't talking to me while I'm distracted. “Uh, y-yeah we did.”

Brendon grins and pulls me into a hug, although it takes a few moments for me to realize what he's doing. I don't get a chance to even hug him back before he pulls away, laughing. “I know, I know. Hugging isn't your thing, but I couldn’t help it. So deal with it.” He grins. 

I force a confused smile, because I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm not even sure what just transpired. My brain is focused on finding Zack. “Hey, um, have you seen Zack?”

Brendon steps back, looking confused. “Zack?” He asks. “Why do you want him?”

“I just, I need to find him. He has something of mine.” I say. 

Brendon’s eyebrows quirks. “What?”

I see Zack’s shaved head as he rounds the corner, carrying a guitar case. “There he is. I'll be right back.” I tell Bendon in parting and rush over to the roadie. “Zack!” I call out, stopping him as he heads for the bus. 

“What?” Zack turns to me and stops, raising his eyebrows. “Oh.”

“M-Mark says you have my, um, my sleeping pills.” I manage to get out. 

“Yeah, here give me a second.” He says and walks away, guitar case in tow. 

I step out of the way of the other roadies as they walk past with all the heavy equipment. We have a lot of stuff. I feel a little sorry that all these people have to haul our stuff all the time. 

Zack’s back before I even realize, pulling me away from the crowd. “Alright, here you are.” He says in a rushed whisper. “Now, this one I'll give you free of charge but next time you gotta pay me.” He's holding out a pill bottle. It's unmarked and simplified. 

I blink at him in confusion but nod my head, taking the pills. 

“You’re supposed to take one at night.” Zack explains with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter much what you take. 

“And, they're supposed to put me to sleep?”

Zack laughs, incredulously. “They'll put anything to sleep.”

“So, it'll help? Th-the insomnia?”

Zack nods. “Oh yeah, those work the best. Although, they sometimes make it hard to wake up and you're drowsy for the rest of the day. But, usually you can fix that by taking an upper for energy.” 

I stare at him in confusion. “Upper?”

“Yeah, something to counteract the down.” When I still looked confused, he sighs. “This is a downer. And, so after you’re down, you can sometimes stay down. So, you have to take an upper. It regulates the ups and downs.”

I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Wow.” I say, stupidly. “Um, so will this keep me down?”

“Most likely. That’s strong stuff.” 

“Thanks.” I say, quietly and leave the room.

When I reach the dressing room, most of my bandmates are half naked or cracking open a bottle of beer. We’re not of legal age yet, but whoever mans the dressing room refreshments always seems to forget. It’s alright, though. None of us are complaining. 

It’s a big day so I allow myself to have a beer, walking over to grab one, popping open the cap. I take a swig and then set it down, stripping out of my sweaty button up. 

“There’s a party going on. Kenny just told me about it.” Spencer blurts out, excitedly, throwing on a different shirt. “And, we’re all going.” He says, sternly.

I stare at him, wide eyed. A party… that definitely doesn’t sound fun. 

“Ryan, stop looking at me with those puppy dog eyes. You’re coming and you’re going to have the best goddamn time of your life.” Spencer tells me through the mirror. 

I shove a t-shirt over my head and sigh. 

“Come on, it won’t be so bad.” Brendon whispers to me, zipping up his tight jeans. “Besides, I’ll be there. I’ll make sure you won’t have to talk to anyone or dance on tables.”

My lips curl up a little in a small smile. “Thanks.” I grant him, nodding my head. 

He grins, widely. He always manages to look perfectly genuine when he smiles. Like he’s been possessed by a ray of sunshine. 

I step over to the mirror, fixing my hair. The pill bottle shakes as I walk. I switched the pill bottle to my jeans after I changed, which is creating a large lump in my pocket. God… they know, don’t they? They see the bottle in my jeans. 

I know I shouldn’t feel guilty. I need help sleeping. Lots of people do. But, I feel like I need to keep it a secret, for some reason. 

I gulp, feeling a nervous twist settle heavy in my guts. 

But, no one speaks. No one even stares at me. I’m home free.

“Alright, come on you dweebs.” Spencer urges, propping the door open. 

Jon laughs as he heads out the door. “Dweebs? Where are you from? The 90's?”

“Fuck off.” Spencer huffs.

I follow them out of the dressing room, my beer forgotten on the counter. 

The party is loud and almost infuriating when we get there. I can’t even hear myself think, and my anxiety is on the fritz. 

The bass thumps through my body and the treble hurts my ears.

People are all over the dancefloor, girating madly. 

I don’t understand dancing. Supposedly, it’s enjoyable. I’ve tested that theory. I haven’t found it to be true. 

I’m sipping on my vodka soda, slowly. I’ve never had a taste for alcohol but… it’s a party. I’m pretty sure that’s an expectation of everyone. 

Brendon’s a little tipsy. He’s taken a few shots of vodka and he’s halfway done with his rum and coke. He’s grinning more than usual, his cheeks rosy. 

I’m pretty sure Spencer is tipsy too, but he hides it better. Jon, on the other hand is close to being wasted. 

They didn’t card us here. We’re celebrities. We’re allowed to do whatever the fuck we want. In a way, I find comfort in that. The control. I could do and say anything here and no one would bat an eye. 

Spencer keeps talking to some kind of girl that’s been hovering us. I’m pretty sure she’s a groupie. I see them a lot. I don’t think Spencer has any intention of sleeping with her, despite her wishes. Spencer’s a romantic. He’s not for one night stands. He likes dates and slow lovemaking.

Pathetic, really. Relationships. Romance. Love. What a sad thing to believe in. Almost as sad as believing some divine entity is up in the vast sky. Love is only chemicals in your brain. Addicting chemicals, yes. But, replace a person with, say, something that induces that same chemical reaction, like something you’re passionate about, or alcohol or a drug. An upper or something else Zack might have up his sleeve. Didn’t they say cocaine can have the same effect? No matter. The point is then you have no need for a person anymore. You have all the feelings with no complications. No breakups, no cheating. Nothing. 

People can’t keep you happy for long. Soon, their effects wear off. You get tired of them. Just like Jac got tired of me. Just like I grew tired of her. People fade. 

You have to find something else that makes you happy. Something permanent. People are temporary. There are better ways to find happiness. 

“Discovering the secrets of the universe again?” Brendon asks, snapping me from my thoughts. 

Maybe I lied when I said the party prevents me from developing coherent thoughts. That is both a relief and a frustration. Sometimes, I wish my brain would shut up. 

“What?” I lift my eyebrows. 

“You’re stuck in your head again. I can tell.” He giggles, like that’s somehow funny.

I smile, sheepishly and shrug, staring at my shoes. 

“How’s the existential crisis going?” He asks with a smile. It’s amazing how well he knows me. 

I laugh quietly and look back into his glassy, drunken eyes. “It’s going.”

He grins. “You wanna dance?” He offers. 

“No thanks.” I shake my head. “I can’t dance.”

He pouts a little and I find myself frowning. “Oh well.” He shrugs. 

“How long do you think we’ll stay here? I just want to go back to the bus and sleep.” I tell him, itching to use the sleeping pills. The miracle pill. 

Brendon shrugs. “Whenever.” 

It’s not an answer. But, really, what’d I expect? Brendon barely gives a straight answer when he’s not drunk. 

I sit down at the bar, watching everyone else party. I don’t understand it. What the appeal is. 

The roadies are here with us and I see them walking around every now and then. Girls on their arms and joints in their mouths. 

I wish they could somehow explain to me what it feels like to enjoy a party.

Maybe one day.


	4. Chapter 4

The sleeping pills don't work the way I hope. The only thing that it makes me feel is drowsy. As if, I always am in need of a nap. But I can't nap. And sleep doesn't come easily. 

I thought it would be a miracle drug, but I’m not too sure a thing like that exists.

The tour finished. It’s a relief in a lot of ways. The constant moving, and the taxing performances are over. But, then comes the emptiness. We’re expected to make something else. A new album. A new single. Something. Something to give to our fans. So we don’t become has beens. 

You can’t fabricate greatness, though. Our first album took a whole year to make. You could even say it took longer because some of us had written melodies or lyrics from years and years ago that we’d only put together. And, despite the year it took us to make it, I still can’t believe people enjoy it or think it’s profound in any way. 

My apartment seems more disillusioned than usual. It feels bare and stale, as if a ghost of a person lived here. In some ways, that’s not an inaccurate explanation. I don’t feel entirely real right now.

I sit and I stare at the blank walls of my bedroom for hours on end. Nothing interests me anymore. I could jam on my guitar, but my fingers feel foreign to me. Like, I don’t quite know how to play anymore. I have a list of books I’ve been meaning to read since I’ve gotten back, but the words seem jumbled. I reread paragraphs over and over again because my mind isn’t comprehending anything. I barely get out of bed, unless it’s to pee or sometimes to eat. 

This isn’t living. Sometimes, I wonder what living feels like. 

The bottle of sleeping pills are laying on my end table. I stare at them, wistfully. They mock me too. 

I reach over and open it up, popping two pills into my mouth. If one didn’t work, then maybe two will. 

And, it does. It takes a few more minutes, but as I rest my head down on the pillow, a wave of rest floods over me and I struggle to keep my eyes open.

Sleep. Sleep finally comes. 

 

\---

 

I’m not too sure how long has passed since I fell asleep. I wake up to a banging that’s clattering from outside my room. I don’t know what day it is, or what time. It’s as if I died for a short amount of time. 

I take back what I said. Maybe these are miracle pills. 

It’s dark outside. Morning or night? I can’t tell. 

I rub my head. It’s aching. Aching as usual. The pills don’t help that. I groan and sit up, my mouth feeling dry. There’s drool that’s dried over the side of my mouth. I rub at it, scrunching up my face in disgust. 

My doorbell buzzes over and over again, along with a symphony of knocks. I huff and stand up, feeling unsteady. A wash of black fills my vision and I try to will it away with my mind.

When I reach my door, I’m ninety percent sure I know who’s behind it. And, when my fingers flex on the handle, pulling it open, my theory is proven correct. 

All three of my bandmates stand before me, holding a pack of beer and sporting wide smiles. 

“Hey, stranger.” Spencer greets. 

“Thanks for going MIA on us.” Jon rolls her eyes. 

I barely manage a blink at them.

“Did we wake you?” Brendon asks, cocking his head to the side with worry. 

I swallow but my mouth is still dry. I shake my head. “No, no, you didn’t.” I lie. 

“Great, because we’re here to party.” Spencer says, squeezing past me into my small living room. 

“Party?” I rasp out, feeling nauseous, but that might be because of the mini death I just experienced.

“Yeah, I think it’s time we have a good old fashioned hang out. None of that band shit.” Spencer smiles. 

A hang out. I don’t know if I remember those. 

Jon walks inside, following Spencer, quickly falling into step with him. 

“Are you sure we didn’t wake you?” Brendon asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice. 

I look into his brown eyes and shrug my shoulders. “A little.” I grant. 

He smiles. “I told them no funny business. No loud music or anything. Just us and some good conversations. I figured we all could use a night to reconnect.” He rocks back and forth on his heels.

I blink at him in surprise. Somehow, the need for us to reconnect as a band hadn’t occurred to me. Perhaps, that’s been our problem. A disconnect. 

I nod my head. “Yeah, no, you’re correct.” I tell him. Sometimes, Brendon becomes a very wise man. 

“You gonna let me in?” He asks, staring up at me incredulously. 

I lift my eyebrows and step back, opening up the door. My motor functions still require some waking up. I chuckle, softly. “Sorry.”

He laughs and shakes his head, slipping inside of my place and following the voices to the living room. 

I look down at my clothes, covered in food stains and wrinkles. I bet I look like shit right now. I take a whiff of my armpit and almost gag. I smell like it too. 

I stop in my bedroom first, putting on some deodorant and popping a piece of gum in my mouth before joining my friends in the lounge. They’ve all chosen seats on the floor, despite the couches I bought for the room. 

I don’t like the couches much anyway. I smile and sit down next to Spencer, in between him and Jon. 

“You know, Mark would love to hear that we’re hanging out.” Spencer says with a laugh, popping open a bottle of beer and passing the six pack to Jon. 

“Yeah, he would.” Jon agrees, rolling his eyes and taking the bottle, thankfully. 

“Sometimes, I wonder if that man wants to just be a part of the band instead of manage it.” Spencer laughs. 

“Pretty sure he wants to be in it.” Jon laughs and hands me and Brendon a couple other beers. 

I take mine and twist it open, but I don’t really feel like drinking it. 

“Do we have to talk about the band?” Brendon asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“What else do you want to talk about?” Jon asks.

“President Bush.” Spencer offers. 

“Noooo!” Jon quickly groans. 

I laugh. 

“No.” Brendon rolls his eyes. “No politics. Nothing depressing.” 

“We should play a board game.” Jon says. 

“A board game?” Brendon asks, disdainfully. 

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because, I don’t want to play a board game.”

“Well, I do!”

“I don’t have any board games.” I tell those bickering, shrugging my shoulders. 

“Aw, man.” Jon pouts. 

“Someone needs to put on some fucking music.” Spencer groans. 

“I’m on it.” Brendon stands up, making his way over to my record player. I have a moment of panic over the fact of him touching my stuff, but I calm when I remember how careful he is with records. Brendon’s a spaz, but sometimes, he’s careful. 

“What should we play then?” Jon asks. 

“Why do we have to play anything?” I stare at him in question. “Why can’t we just talk?” 

The sounds of Green Day fills the room, the beginning track of American Idiot causing everyone to smile. A damn good album, that is. 

“Hell yeah!” Spencer muses. 

Brendon comes to sit back down with a proud grin. He sips his beer. 

“We could tell all our deepest secrets.” Jon laughs. 

“I have no secrets.” Spencer says, smugly. 

“Yeah, fucking right.” Brendon rolls his eyes. 

“What? I’m an open book.” Spencer shrugs, nonchalantly. 

“Sure, okay.” Brendon huffs. 

Jon snickers, smirking at Spencer.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Brendon offers, with an excitable grin. 

I flinch. Truth or dare is one of those games that has no winners. If you pick truth, you could be ostracized and if you pick dare, you are embarrassed. I hate the damn game.

“I don’t know, man. That game gets old.” Spencer chimes in.

“I mean,” Jon shrugs his shoulders, “that doesn’t sound like a horrible idea.” 

I stare at my bandmates in horror, but I choose to be passive. I always do. So many people in my life have told me I don’t have a backbone. 

I can always lie. They don’t hook you up to a lie detector test so, how are they supposed to know what’s the real truth?

“Ryan?” Brendon looks at me, his eyes pleading. 

I simply shrug.

I’m outnumbered in votes so let the games begin. 

The dares turn out to be as insane as I imagined them to be. I almost can’t believe them. Brendon had to pretend to pole dance. I didn’t watch. It… I don’t know… it just seemed strange to watch. They made Spencer drink a concoction of ketchup, mustard, vinegar and peanut butter and Jon had to strip off his pants, left in only his briefs.

When they came to me, I chose truth. Of course.

“Ugh, buzzkill.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Alright, Ryan,” Jon looks at me with a evil grin, “ever slept with a groupie?” 

These questions… 

I shake my head. “No.” I answer, and it is the truth. I’ve never slept with a groupie. They seem too dirty, too whorish for me. They seem like an easy cop out. I’d rather be celibate then desperately fuck a groupie. No offense to groupies. They can do what they want with their body and life, but I don’t personally like the idea.

“No?” Jon asks.

I shake my head again. “Why does that surprise you?”

“It doesn’t.” He answers, eyeing me. 

I furrow my brow at him. 

It’s Brendon’s turn again. He chooses dare like he did last time, apparently having enjoyed it. 

Spencer smirks at Jon, taking the lead on this one. “Alright, Brendon, we dare you to french kiss Ryan.”

I flinch at the sound of my name. A kiss? A french kiss. 

I gulp. This wasn’t spin the bottle. What the fuck was that kind of dare? I don’t really want to kiss Brendon. Despite the fact that he has nice, Angelina Jolie lips, I don’t entirely feel comfortable with the idea. But then again, it’s not my dare. I turn to Brendon, my eyes widening a little. 

Brendon’s blushing. He looks to Spencer, nervously. I can tell because he’s chewing on his bottom lip. “A french kiss?”

“Mhm. A french kiss.” He smirks as if he knows something. Something I don’t and it irks me somehow. I want to know everything. 

I glance back to Brendon, my cheeks burning from embarrassment. He offers me a nervous smile, although somehow it also looks flirtatious, before leaning across the circle, pressing his lips onto mine. 

I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t really expect anything. A kiss is a kiss. Two lips on each other. You could go soft and slow or you can smash your lips together. You could french kiss, or just peck. Either way, it’s still a kiss. 

But this…

God... this was something else. What it was? Fuck, if I know. 

I feel the kiss reach my toes. A sudden surge of euphoria rippling through my body. I begin to kiss Brendon back, but it takes me awhile to match his passion. 

The euphoria never fades. I don’t know if I’ve ever really known a kiss to do that. Unless, it was a heavy makeout session where there was promise of getting some action. 

Brendon’s lips are softer than I expected; soft and pillowy. He presses his lips to mine, almost needy, his tongue swiping along my lower lip. I follow his lead, opening up for him. It was a french kiss dare after all. As soon as his tongue brushes against mine, I feel electricity heating my skin. 

A flame flickers on. like a lighter in the pit of my stomach. A hungry flame. A flame that wants to just kiss Brendon more and more and more. A flame that makes me wish this won’t come to an end. 

But, sadly, it has to. Brendon slowly pulls away, his eyes just as wide. 

I stare at him, his eyes full of shock and his lips pink. His cheeks are a gorgeous shade of red.

I blink at him.

He’s beautiful. 

Brendon is goddamn beautiful, how have I never realized this before? 

His plump lips, his dark eyes, his hair creating a softness around his perfect bone structure. He’s a damn masterpiece if you ask me. And, the best kisser I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. 

But, fuck. Wait. No. Rewind.

This was Brendon. This was Brendon. A bandmate. A best friend. Someone I shouldn’t like. I’m not… I’m not gay. I wasn’t even sure if I was bisexual. I’d never been interested in guys before.

God… I was just sexually deprived. And, too tired to think clearly. I didn’t have a crush on Brendon. 

I shift, awkwardly. 

Spencer’s still smirking at me and Jon’s shaking his head. 

“There you go, Bren,” Spencer grins, “you’re very welcome.”

“Hey, shut up.” Brendon says, quickly, his eyes widening.

“Why are you saying ‘you’re welcome’?” I ask, quizzically. 

“No reason. Just ignore him.” Brendon says, quickly. 

“He’s got the biggest crush on you.” Spencer supplies.

I feel an awkwardness twist my stomach. I stare at Brendon, eyes wide. He’s shaking his head, quickly. 

“No, no, I don’t.” He insists. “I used to. I used to have a crush. I’ve gotten over it, don’t worry.” 

I nod my head, unsure if I believe him or not. We just kissed and now I find out that he likes me? 

It distracts me for the rest of the game. We play until Spencer, Jon and Brendon are too drunk to speak anymore. I didn’t drink as much. I’ve lost a taste for it after my father. 

Sick bastard. 

I wait until they pass out before I make my way back to my room. I grip the bottle of sleeping pills Zack gave me and open it up, taking another two pills out. I down them quickly and then climb into bed, the whole time dreaming of Brendon’s soft lips.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s strange. I’ve never thought of Brendon quite like this before. I notice everything now. Every little quirk. Every leg bounce. Every rambling. Even every time he blinks. It’s like I’m totally engrossed in him, despite my head telling me to chill out. 

I don’t have a crush. Having a crush means you’re actually attracted to the person you’re staring at. I don’t feel attracted. Not really. I don’t know if I would call it that. Just a strange sense of wonderment. I wonder how it’d feel to kiss him again. If it would be the same as before. Electric and smooth.

But, wondering isn’t the same as crushing. Trust me, I would know. I’m very intelligent. 

Although, I’ve stayed away from Brendon lately. I’ve ignored the calls from him because I can’t deal with it right now. I haven’t been able to talk to Brendon in a week or two. I just keep getting reminded of our kiss. It’s in my head, on repeat, 24/7. It’s better than having the thoughts I used to have, but this image is confusing and arousing all at once. 

I’m not crushing on him. 

Our days off are shorter than we all expected. For me, especially, considering that I spent all of it asleep. Sleeping pills could work miracles. I spent more time asleep than alive, and that was way better than living. 

Soon we’re back on the godawful bus, playing show after show again. Mark expected us to have more energy, but I feel more drained than ever. 

These sleeping pills. The damn things make me tired every single day. Zack mentioned needing an upper. I think I definitely do. It’s been bad. One day, Spencer had to drag me out of bed to get on stage for soundcheck.

I can’t work like this. No, not at all. I need some energy pills. I wonder if they make any of those. I’ll ask Zack. 

“This is your first headlining tour, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“How is that going? Is there a certain pressure now?” The interviewer is middle aged. He’s balding too, with small glasses that are hanging at the end of his nose as he furiously writes our answers down on a legal pad. 

I hate interviews. It’s nerve wracking and humiliating. The interviewers are always judgmental pricks who don't understand our music and assume they know what we are. I hate them.

“Yeah, of course there is.” Jon begins to speak so I zone out, letting him take it. 

The funny thing about interviews is that no matter how clear you are with your words and how carefully you speak, they still find ways to twist things. I guess, you just can’t trust anybody in this life. 

I’m not sure how long this interview has already gone on, but I know it’s been long enough. Jesus, I can't wait to get out of here. The bald man can’t even ask good questions. He’s asking us the same questions we always get. 

What our music is like. How our tour is going. How we feel about being in the music business so young. If we fuck groupies. 

It’s the same old thing and it’s shit. If they asked good questions, I’d actually have an interest in answering them. 

I look over at Brendon who’s sitting on a chair a few feet away. He looks comfy, and equally as bored as I am. His body is slumped on the comfy chair, his form fitting into the mold of the couch. He yawns. 

His head turns to glance at me, his dark brows lifting in question.

I avert my gaze quickly, not wanting him to know I was staring. That’s something that cannot happen. If he does have a crush on me, then I need him to understand that it’s not reciprocated. 

“Brendon and Ryan,” The interviewer begins and I lift my head, nervously, “have you heard that half of your fans think you’re a couple?”

“What?” I ask, almost appalled. Not by our fans but the prospect of that. Me and Brendon? I mean, we’ve kissed, but dating? I laugh. “No, never heard that before.”

“So, you’re not a couple?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” I shake my head, furiously, “we’re just friends.” I chance a look at Brendon.

“Yep.” He said, with a tone that’s hard to pinpoint. “Just friends.” 

Mark comes in, peeking his head in. He taps his watch, impatiently. “Sorry to interrupt but the boys have things to do.”

The interviewer nods, furiously and stands up. He thanks us for the interview, shaking our hands before hurrying out of the room. 

The interview is then over after that and Jon and Spencer are still laughing about our couple question. I yawn, unimpressed.

“You should’ve said yes.” Spencer snickers. 

“Oh, no. Ryan would never.” Brendon retorts. 

I turn my head to face Brendon He almost looks… offended. Surely, I’m reading that wrong, though. 

“How many no’s again? Five?” Brendon asks me. “I’m not that repulsive, am I?” A smile spreads across his lips. But, it looks forced. His eyes don't light up like they usually do. Is he really that upset over my answer?

“No, no!” I quickly say, shaking my head. “I was just… I was clarifying.” I say, chewing on my bottom lip. 

“Yeah, sure.” Brendon says, rolling his eyes and looking away.

I don’t know what to make of his reaction. I thought he’d been just teasing me, but… was he seriously upset? Surely not. I know he’s got a crush on me and all, but did he really think it’d go anywhere? Oh god… this is awkward.

We get onto the bus and I can’t go take a nap without first asking Brendon whether he’s hurt by my comments today. Although, a nap is everything I want to do. 

“Hey.” I greet, softly, chewing on the inside of my cheeks. He’s heading back to his bunk too, but I manage to stop him before he climbs inside of it. 

Brendon turns around, his eyebrows lifting, obviously surprised that I’ve come over to talk to him. “What’s up?”

“I, well, I just wanted… I mean… wh-what happened earlier.” God, I don't know how to begin this at all. I sigh, in frustration. “I didn’t upset you at all, right?”

Brendon is silent for a moment, his eyes staring at me intently and full of emotions I can’t even begin to comprehend. He shrugs, nonchalantly. “No.”

“I didn’t?” 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t have to say no so many times.” He says, raising his eyebrows. “That kind of upset me.” He laughs. “But, no, I’m not mad.”

I feel a little confused. I upset him by denying it too many times? I was just… making it clearer. “Oh.” I say, dumbly. 

“Besides,” his lips curl into a smirk, causing my stomach to twist, “I’m out of your league anyway.”

I lift my eyebrows, a small chuckle escaping my lips. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, keeping the smug smile on his lips. “I’m way out of your league. You wouldn’t be able to handle me, so yeah, maybe it is a good thing that we’re not dating.”

My mouth opens, but I have no words. I… don't know what to make of all of this. I shake my head, quickly. “That is so not true.” I eventually manage to get out. It’s stupid, but at least it’s something. “I’d be able to handle you.” I narrow my eyes at him. 

“Oh, is that so?” He asks in a disbelieving tone and I shake my head, shooting him a warning glare.

“Yeah, it is.” I counter. 

“In your dreams, Ross.” He says, giving me a smirk. Flirting. Imagine that. 

My eyes trail down his body, from his thin, fit body to his smug face. I shake my head at him, feeling a bit of heat filling my cheeks. “Fuck you, Urie.” I return and swiftly move to my bunk. He seems like he wants to be left alone. Or maybe I want to be alone. Today has been far too confusing. But, at least, he's not mad at me. 

 

***

 

I need something to stop the tiredness. And, honestly, if I had something to dull the pain in my head, that would be good too. I need something. Something to help me live without wanting to kill myself every day. I need something to get me through the day without having me almost fainting due to lack of sleep. Something to hopefully thrive on. I need to feel that zest for life again. Not this empty feeling. This void of emotion. 

I find Zack easily. He’s big and burly so it’s not hard to spot. I have to tell myself not to run up to him, even though that’s exactly what I want to do. “Zack!” I call and he turns his head.

He looks confused as he walks over to me. “Yeah?”

“I, um, I have a question. I think you’re the one to help me.” I say, gulping.

“Listen, I’m not your guitar tech so if you’re having a problem, you--”

“No! It’s not that kind of question.” I interrupt. “It’s um… I need… I need the uppers you mentioned.” I lower my voice so no one overhears. 

Zack takes a paranoid glance around. “You do?”

“I barely wake up in the morning, anymore.” I complain. 

He nods his head. “Well, I mean, yeah. They’re strong stuff.”

“Well, then I need something to wake me up.” I’m not begging. I’m not, I swear. 

He looks around again and grabs me by the arm, his grip strong and menacing. I flinch a little, growing nervous. He pulls me into a dark corner of backstage. “Alright. I can get you something to help with your energy. But, I’m not gonna keep doing this for free, so next time you either pay me or you’re on your own.”

My stomach churns. I don’t know what to do on my own. I nod my head because what else am I supposed to do? I need the energy so whatever he can give me will be great. Whatever the cost. 

“You’ll have to give me some time, but I can get them for you. Don’t worry.”

I sigh in relief. There’s hope. There’s so much hope. “Thank you, really.”

“No problem.” Zack says, stoically. I wonder if he ever smiles. But, some people wonder the same thing about me.

We part ways, me going back to the green room to chill while he sets up the stage. I walk in, spotting my bandmates playing Guitar Hero in the corner. I go to sit on the couch, ignoring Brendon, and contemplate the newfound zest for life I have. I smile to myself, unable to help it.

Finally, there’s hope.


	6. Chapter 6

I still avoid Brendon like hell. I just… I can’t be around him. Being around him makes my stomach flip. I haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I think he’s starting to get annoyed by it. He keeps trying to initiate a conversation but when I don’t reply, he gives up. Usually, accompanied with a scoff. 

I don’t mean to offend him, but I just can’t trust it. I’m still confused as to whether I can’t trust him or myself. I don’t want to figure out that answer. Better left to the air. 

The bag of pills Zack brought me stare at me on the bathroom sink. We’re in Pittsburgh or something like that. I can’t be too sure where anymore. All I know is that we have 50 more shows left. After this one, 49. 

The pills are multicolored. I’ve heard of them before. Amphetamines. I don’t know what they’ll do, though. Zack told me they’ll give me energy and make me more talkative. I’m way too quiet anyway so maybe that’s not such a bad thing. 

I take out a blue one, starting with the lowest dosage as Zack told me. I don’t want to have any complications. My goal is to help myself. Help fix all these horrible thoughts. Help me gain energy. Help me get through this tour. Anything. 

My mind’s been on the brink again. I keep getting down about everything. Sometimes, there’s a spark about it again. A good lyric will pop into my head, or a beautiful song will help me that day. But, mostly, I don’t want it anymore. I never signed up for this. I never asked to come out of the womb and become a person. Sometimes, I don’t even feel like a person. 

Sleeping pills help. I get to sleep the pain away. The only downside is that then I run the risk of sleeping through the performance. If this helps, then it helps.

I pop the pill in my mouth and down it with some water. 

If it helps me manage this tour then good.

Nothing happens. But, I didn’t expect it too. Not yet. I slump to the ground, my back against the wall as I rest my head in my hands. 

I used to be so excited about life.

What happened to me?

I used to want all of this. Playing music, making music. Living life on the road. Fame, fortune. All of it. Or even just being an artist. That’s what I was excited about. Not… this. 

Life doesn’t seem to be all it’s cracked up to be.

I know they’re waiting for me. They probably think I’m having a panic attack. But no. Not this time. Instead, I’m popping pills to put on a fucking show. And, trying not to fall asleep in the process.

A knock sounds at the door and I flinch.

“Ryan?”

It’s Brendon. I know it is. 

“Ryan, can you let me in?” He tried to open the door but I locked it already. 

I scramble up, grabbing the pills and shoving them into my pockets. He can’t see. No one can see. This is too personal and something that I shouldn’t have to explain to anybody. I don’t ask about their business. They don’t ask about mine. 

“Ry?”

I unlock the door, opening it up, quickly. “What?!” I demand. 

Brendon flinches and backs away like he’s scared. 

Well, maybe that’s a good thing. I’ll scare him off. 

“I was just… I was just checking on you.” Brendon says, awkwardly. 

“You don’t have to.” I snap. I know I’m being rude but… I can’t seem to stop myself. It feels as though I’ve been caught.

He furrows his brow, looking offended but I walk away from him. I can’t… deal with him right now. 

“Come on, we have to play a show.” I add, walking over to my station. I’ve already done my makeup. I’d done it with a shaky hand so it looks like shit, but at least it was something.

Spencer and Jon are staring at me. They looked both shocked and a little angry. I try to ignore them as much as possible. 

“Alright, it’s time to go.” The stage manager tells us, peeking her head into the dressing room. 

I quickly tuck my pills into my bag once my bandmates are distracted. They can’t know. No one can know. 

I start to feel a surge of energy. It’s like I’m floating. Except, I know that’s impossible. My bloods starts to pump faster in my veins as we make it backstage. I’m getting excited now. I’ve never felt this way before. Not once in my life.

I jump up and down backstage, waiting in the wings by Brendon, Spencer and Jon. They all stare at me weird. 

I laugh at them. “Just getting the blood pumping before the show.” I explain. “Did you know that exercise actually serves more than just a physical purpose. I read that it can ease your anxiety because the lungs have to regulate your breathing. I’ve also read that you can cure depression this way, but I doubt that. I can’t see how it would help. Telling a person with a broken leg to exercise isn’t something you’d do, would you?”

Brendon’s eyes are wide. I laugh though nothing’s funny. “Uh, no… you wouldn’t.” Brendon blinks at me. 

“Yeah, exactly! It’s like, why would you even tell someone that? Tell them how to cope or give them a pill. Don’t tell them to fucking exercise.” I shake my head.

“Ryan.” My guitar tech walks over, handing me my guitar.

I nod my head. “Ah, thank you!” I grin. “Alright, guys, let’s fucking do this!” 

The show goes amazingly. I’ve never been better. It was nearly perfect and I’m never, ever even mediocre so that was saying something. I even allowed Brendon to flirt with me. Why not, you know? It wasn’t hurting anyone. 

We get backstage and I can’t stop grinning. What a show. This is definitely going down in history for me. It was amazing. The dressing room still smells of sweat and booze, but I welcome it now. It represents this beautiful show. 

We change, I avoid my eyes from Brendon and keep my distance. I may be high and talkative, but I know to keep my distance.

We make it outside to a bunch of screaming fans. 

“Ryan!” I hear my name repeated over and over. Usually, this kind of situation makes my anxiety skyrocket. I can barely breathe as I sign things for what looks like a million people. I take photographs and flinch at every flash. 

But, not tonight. Tonight, I’m on top of the fucking world. I smile to the entire group, signing records and CD’s and pieces of paper. It’s amazing. All these people love us. Love us. 

Love me.

It’s strange. They treat me like I’m some kind of god. Tonight, I feel like a god. 

I am a fucking god. 

Our bodyguards move us along after what feels like only five minutes. We’ve got a hotel to get to tonight. Tomorrow’s a much needed day off. Although, right now, performing doesn’t seem so bad to me. 

I’m saddened to leave the beckoning fans, waving them a goodbye as we’re taken to the hotel. My bandmates look exhausted. There’s a heavy weight on my shoulders, telling me that I’m exhausted too. 

I think the pills are wearing off. 

“Tonight sucked.” Jon grumbled, leaning his head against the window. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t our best.” Spencer agrees.

I’m shocked. I felt like it was the best one we’ve had all tour. Possibly ever. 

Did the pills warp my mind? Or was I in a completely different universe that my bandmates were in? 

The car drops us off and we all groggily walk into the hotel. There aren’t any fans awaiting our arrival. No, we’ve gotten more careful about that. As we board the elevator, I start to feel a headache coming on. It’s dull but it’s there. Ever present and ever painful. I hope it doesn’t progress. 

Jon and Spencer reach their rooms first. We’ve been separated now. The perks of being on top of the food chain. Brendon and I are still a few doors down. 

“What’s your room number?” I hear his voice coming from behind me. 

I turn my head. “540.” I answer, looking at my key for a clear answer. 

“Oh, I’m right next to you, then.” He sounds cheery. I don’t look at him to know whether or not he’s smiling. 

“Do you want to hang out for a bit? I’m not all that tired, yet.”

I shrug my shoulders in response. 

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

“So… can I come in?” He asks. 

We reach my door and I stare at the lock with disdain. “Um… I-I don’t… I’m not really… in the mood for company.” I stutter out a reply. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Brendon asks, but it’s not confrontational. His voice sounds kind of… sad.

“I’m not.” I tell him, my eyes widening. I’ve been caught.

So, he’s noticed. Well, points to him for being more observant than I thought. Or maybe minus points for me for being so obvious about it. 

“No?” Brendon clarifies. 

I shake my head, quickly. 

“Then, why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

He’s right. I am avoiding him. But, that’s not because I’m afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m just wary. Of him. Of his lips. Of my confusing feelings over our kiss. Wariness isn’t fear.

“Because,” I begin, not sure where my sentence is even going, “you… I… it’s complicated, alright?” 

“Complicated.” He huffs.

I nod my head.

“Fucking hell.” I hear Brendon groan. 

I flinch, staring at him with wide eyes. What the fuck is he about to say next? 

“Ryan,” his voice is increasingly more stressed, “why is it so complicated? You’ve avoided me for a week now. I’m tired of this bullshit. What’s wrong?” He looks concerned, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that tells me that he’s hurt. Or maybe it’s anger. Perhaps, it’s both. 

I gulp, not knowing what to say. I can’t really think right now. My heart is pounding in my chest. I never wanted to discuss this. We were fine. I avoided him like the plague and we went our merry way. Why does he have to have a qualm about it?

“It’s…” he lets out a heavy sigh, looking down at his feet, “it’s about our kiss, isn’t it?” He murmurs softly, scraping his Converse on the floor.

My stomach clenches. He knows. He remembers. Of course he does. He wasn’t that drunk. Neither was I. 

I remember. 

He remembers. 

“I…” I don’t know what to say. Or what to do. I try to formulate words in my brain, but they all sound like shit. 

I can’t explain it. I can’t explain us.

“I knew it!” He snaps his head up at me when I don’t reply, his face contorting with annoyance. He shakes his head. “That’s why you’re acting weird!”

I clench my jaw, but shut up. I don’t want to fight with him. “I… I haven’t been acting weird.” I whisper.

“God, yes you have! You avoid me like the I have a disease.” His eyes grow dark with pain. I’ve hurt him. “Fuck, Ryan, we kissed. We did. Once. And, that was it. We were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything, alright? Now, let’s just go back to normal.” He pleads.

My stomach drops. He brushes it off like it’s nothing. Like, it was a fleeting moment, just like any other mundane task. Just crossing off the to do’s. Does he not realize how much it’s fucked me up lately? I gulp. 

“Can you do that?” He asks, gently, his eyebrows knitting together in worry.

My eyes trail down his face. I eye his warm eyes, shining with concern, his wide, soft nose, his strong jawline, his plump, beautiful lips…

My stomach flips and before I even know what I’m doing, I press my lips into his. 

But it’s an experiment. I know it is. A test to see if I feel the same way I did before in my drunken haze. I’m certain that it was just an alcohol induced feeling. 

But then, my stomach immediately flutters. The blood begins to rush in my veins, my head starting to float again and it wasn’t the alcohol. No, not at all.

Brendon doesn’t push me away. His lips press into mine; a perfect mixture of tender and passionate. His hands wrap around the small of my back and my skin heats up. My hands cradle the back of his neck as I move closer to him. 

Fuck, how does it feel like this?

His mouth is as soft as I remember. His lips just as smooth and welcoming, creating fireworks on mine. Pliable and durable, moving against my lips in perfect rhythm. Nothing about it is forced. We’re acting on instinct.

A small, yet deep, moan escapes from his mouth, vibrating against mine. A tingle runs down my spine, making me shudder in delight. His tongue somehow makes his way into my mouth, brushing against mine. I shiver. 

My whole body ignites and it’s suddenly too hot to breathe. Panic fills my stomach and I pull away, quickly. 

His lips chase mine as I disconnect. His face is flushed. Fuck, he looks so beautiful. He looks up at me with his eyebrow furled in confusion. He’s as breathless as I am. His dark eyes even darker than usual.

I blink at him, my eyes widening. That was… that wasn’t supposed to happen. Fuck, I don’t know what came over me. I’m more confused than ever. God, I must still be high. 

I gulp and immediately turn my back on him. I unlock my door and rush in, slamming it behind me as quickly as hotel doors can. I lock it behind me for good measure, peering at him through the peephole in the door. 

He doesn’t knock, though. I don’t know why, but he lets me go. 

His face looks a little sad, and he hangs his head as he walks away. Guilt fills me up inside. I’ve hurt him. 

I just… I need time. It’s too much. I can’t comprehend all of this fast enough. I need time to think everything through. I need to make sense of these stupid feelings. They’re not truly real. Just developed from how lonely I’ve gotten. If I found a girl to hug and kiss, then I wouldn’t even think about him. 

 

...right?


	7. Chapter 7

_ Brendon gasps into my mouth as I kiss him, hard. His lips are sweet and soft, just like I remember. He moans, gently and my cock twitches in my pants, suddenly coming to life.  _

 

_ “Ryan.” He gasps as I pull away from his lips. I’ve never heard something so erotic.  _

 

_ I wrap my arms around him, kissing at his neck, but it’s not damn close enough. His chest pressed to him, his crotch to mine. He’s already hard. Fuck.  _

 

_ I am too. So hard it hurts.  _

 

_ He pulls off my shirt, gripping at my lower back until he finds the edge. I do the same for him, shedding his shirt, quickly. And, then our pants, and our underwear and I feel my insides burn with want.  _

 

_ We kiss again, our cocks brushing together and it’s my turn to moan. That’s so good. If I wasn’t intent of fucking him tonight, I would definitely be wanting to see what it’d be like to jerk us off together. That would feel amazing, I bet. But, not tonight. Not now.  _

 

_ Brendon sinks onto his knees in front of me, smirking at me with these… eyes. Eyes that are full of lust and flirtation. Oh fuck… _

 

_ He tongues my hips and lower stomach, teasing me, leaving love bites in his wake. I whine, pushing on his head. I don’t beg. But, fuck, just blow me please. God. _

 

_ He chuckles, breathlessly against my skin and a shiver runs up my spine. His mouth is barely there, his hot breath gliding over my length. He’s intent on making me beg for it. God, fuck him.  _

 

_ “Brendon…” I breathe out, it’s a question. No, it’s a command. Maybe it’s both. _

 

_ “Yeah?” He asks, teasingly licking my slit. _

 

_ I shake. “Please.” I beg.  _

 

_ And, he dives in for it.  _ But, the sensation doesn’t come. What the fuck is he doing? 

 

I shake awake, blinking my eyes open, staring up at my bunk ceiling. Fuck. That was all a dream?!

 

My dick is hard and throbbing. 

 

Goddammit. 

 

It was just a dream. I can’t believe it was a dream. It felt so… real. 

 

I try not to analyze all of this in my head. Of course, I fail because I can’t not think sometimes. 

 

What does all this mean? If I’m dreaming of him then… what? Do I want him? I mean… that’s not entirely untrue. He’s a good kisser. I wonder what his mouth might feel like if he--

 

No. Wait. Think about this for a minute. This is  _ Brendon _ . This isn’t some chick. This isn’t even some random guy. It’s my best friend. And I should not be dreaming of my best friend in that way. I should be… I should be dreaming about some new hot blonde riding my dick. Not Brendon and his moans and his groans and his mouth. 

 

Fuck…

 

I reach down into my boxers, quickly and start to jerk myself off. Goddammit Brendon.

 

In my head, I’m filled with the images I saw in my dream. Brendon’s cock, his torso, him on his knees. Fuck, him on his knees…

 

I’ve seen him naked a few times. When you’re on tour, it’s hard to find any sort of privacy, and since he’s so open about things, it’s never bothered him to have his cock out. Only problem for me is that it made my dream version of him much more real. Much more vivid. His tongue and his hot breath and stupid smirk. That fucking smirk. 

 

Fucking hell, Brendon. 

 

I come far too quickly. I’ve been out of the game too long. Too damn long.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Here you go.” Zack whispers, popping a baggie in my hand. “These will help with the anxiety you talked about. Sometimes, speed can cause more panic attacks.”

 

I huff. “Tell me about it.”

 

Five in one day. Five panic attacks in one day. If the amphetamines weren’t the only things keeping me awake, I’d have kicked them to the curb.

 

I grab the blue pills - Valium, so Zack told me  - and stuff them into my pocket. 

 

“Alright, now where’s my money?” He demands.

 

I gulp and pull out a wad of cash I’d recently checked out of my bank account. I hand it over, carefully, exchanging the wad in his hand as we shook. He nods to me, seeing all the hundreds in his hand.

 

We part ways and I’m left with the drugs in my hands. It’s a funny thing. I never thought I’d get here. I mean, it’s not like I’m not a junkie. I refuse to let myself become a junkie. I’m only easing my pain. But, it’s still strange to have just gone through with a drug deal. 

 

I stuff the pills into my back pocket and make my way up to the dressing room, the halls painted white around me. I pass by Brendon as I go, ducking my head as we move by each other. I’ve almost reached the dressing room, ready to stuff the pills into my bag and get back downstairs for soundcheck when I hear my name called out. I flinch, slowly turning around. 

 

Brendon’s looking at me, his face filled with nerves, but his posture is strong. He takes a few strides over, reaching me with a furrowed brow. I wonder for a moment, what I must look like. Scared? Or stoic? I’d like to think stoic, but I can’t be certain. 

 

He says nothing. I say nothing. And, I’m certain the silence is going to break soon, but it doesn’t. I swallow, audibly. 

 

“Yes?” I ask, breaking the damn silence. 

 

“Can you just…” He fumbles, like he’s not sure what to say. Or what to say first. “Ryan… I miss you.” He says, his voice sounding crestfallen. He  _ looks _ crestfallen. 

 

I gulp, my heart lurching in my chest. He misses me?

 

Missing is a strong word. Especially, when I haven’t gone anywhere. But, missing someone when they’re still there is a paradox. I stare at him, confused. 

 

“I miss being your friend.” He gulped, obviously scared about telling me all of this. 

 

“We are friends.” I counter.

 

“No, we’re not! You can’t even look at me somedays. And, then some days you kiss me like your life depends on it. And, I don’t know what to do!” His voice is anguished and my guts twist at the sound. 

 

I say nothing. Do nothing. I have no idea what there is to do. What does he expect me to say? 

 

I’m not confused. I’m not confused in  _ that  _ way. But, I’m… befuddled. Befuddled at the situation. I guess I’m lonely and that’s why I’ve spent my time dreaming of Brendon. That must be it. 

 

“Please… tell me what to do.” 

 

“I… I don’t know what to tell you.” I gulp.

 

“Are we not friends anymore?” He asks, frowning solemnly.

 

“Of course, we’re friends.” I quickly say.

 

“Then why do you ignore me?!”

 

“Because, I can’t be around you!” I shout back at him, not even thinking about it first. 

 

“What does that even mean?” He demands.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I need it to stop.” I let out a shaky breath.

 

“Ryan, I can’t stop anything until I know what I’m doing.” Brendon blinks at me, his eyes full of confusion. 

 

“I just…” I look down at the ground, kicking my shoe around, “you… you look at me with these bright eyes. And, when we’ve kissed, I felt… fuck, I don’t know what I felt but I both liked it and disliked it.” I exhale, heavily. My heart is thumping in my chest. God, I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I can’t even believe I’m feeling this. 

 

“So… you’re saying… wait, what are you saying?” Brendon asks, utterly confused. Of course he would be. I’ve been pretty vague about everything. 

 

I huff, still staring at the tile floor. The floor has little specks in it, gray specks. Some things you don’t notice about a room until you’re anxious about something. I don’t lift my head, I just stay staring. Counting the gray specks in the floor. “I’m saying… that, I’m… I’m not sure what I’m feeling… but, I feel,” I pause, gulping, “something.” 

 

Brendon is silent. God, why isn’t he saying anything?! I brave a look up at him. He looks shocked, but is it really that shocking? We’ve kissed multiple times. The most recent one being one that I instigated. 

 

“I, um,” He begins and I wince, expecting a rejection, “That’s okay,” he coos, “It’s okay to not be sure.

 

I chew on my lip. What does that even mean? 

 

He opens his mouth to speak again because apparently the silence was killing him too. “It’s okay to feel things. New things. It’s natural.”

 

I blink at him.

 

“Does this mean you like me too?” He rambles. 

 

I'm frozen. Like. A word that can mean so many things. Some people like baseball. Some people like listening to music. But when you put it in the context of two people. Two people liking each other, that’s where it gets complicated. Because the fusion of the two is a tricky business. Besides, he's been my best friend for so long I can't possibly see how we’d work. 

 

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. I slowly,  _ slowly _ nod my head. Sure, maybe there’s a bit of like in there. Maybe there’s a lot. 

 

Brendon’s eyes grow wide, a hopeful glow shining within them. Of course, he’d be happy. He’s already admitted - or well, forced to admit - that he’s had a crush on me. ‘Former crush’ is his own words, but that’s a lie. We kissed like it was the only thing left on the face of the earth to do. He likes me still. 

 

And, I like him… a little bit. 

 

“What’s next, then?” Brendon asks, his eyebrows lifting. 

 

“Next?” I ask, not comprehending the question. What does he mean next? There is no next. There’s a now and a before. But, I don’t see a future at all. 

 

“Yeah, what’s next for us?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t go on if you keep ignoring me, so what’s next?”

 

I gulp. “Nothing.” I say. His brow furrows, his eyes look pained. “We play the show.” 

 

Brendon opens his mouth to speak but nothing ends up coming out. He looks down at the ground in contemplation.

 

I turn on my heel and walk the rest of the way to the dressing room. Jon and Spencer are already in there. Their faces lift when I walk in. 

 

“There he is! Brendon just went to look for you. Where you been?” Jon asks, jovially. 

 

I’m suddenly reminded of the drugs in my pocket. I gulp and shake my head. “Nothing.”

 

Brendon walks in after me and the guys greet him, similarly. 

 

“Oh you found Ryan!” “Isn’t it going to be a great night?” “Yeah I love this venue.” I hear their words echoing in my ear, but I’m not really there. I’m staring at myself in the mirror, wondering when exactly I’ll be able to sneak away to take my pills. 

 

It’s hard. Keeping this secret. I can’t exactly pop speed into my mouth in front of the gang. And, I can’t exactly sneak away very easily.

 

I try to do my makeup as usual, but my hand keeps shaking. I haven’t taken anything in awhile. My head’s starting to hurt. My heart’s beating unbearably fast. I can’t do it. I can’t do the show.

 

I’m useless, I’m useless, I’m useless.

 

My panic attacks seem to get worse every time. Each day it gets harder and harder to bear. It feels like someone turned the knob of the volume dial all the way up. My brain is full of loud static, and filled with self-hatred. It's too much. 

 

I can’t do this. 

 

I can’t do it anymore.

 

I start to feel faint and my breathing becomes erratic. Oh god. 

 

“Man, you okay?”

 

I can’t tell who just spoke to me. I just stumble across the room to the bathroom and drop to the cold, dirty tile floor. I’m going to die. It feels like I’m going to die. Maybe it’s a brain aneurysm. Or a heart complication. My ribs feel like they’re going to break because of my heart’s beats. 

 

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. 

 

The door swings open, but I can’t see anything. Not a damn thing. 

 

“Breathe, just breathe.” I hear Brendon say. He inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Breathe with me.”

 

I’m still panicking but I breathe, I try to. I inhale and I exhale with him. It feels only mildly better. 

 

“Look up and tell me what you see.”

 

I obey, for some reason, staring at the sink. I gulp and exhale, shakily. “A sink.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

I keep breathing and my heart slows a little.

 

“And how about looking down?”

 

“The ground.”

 

My hands are shaking, but my breaths aren’t erratic any more.

 

“And to your left?”

 

I look left, seeing his legs by the door. I look up at his face. He looks worried. Not scared, but worried. “You.” I answer, a smile twitching the side of my mouth. 

 

“Any better?” He asks, smiling. 

 

“A little.” I admit, feeling somewhat more stable. 

 

“Good.” He says, triumphantly. 

 

“Thanks.” I gulp, slowly climbing to my feet. My knees are shaky. My stomach churns. But, I’m alive. 

 

“Sure thing.” He smiles at me and I feel butterflies fill my stomach. My insides twist.

 

God, get over here. 

 

I lean into him and his eyes widen a little, but he meets me, halfway. Our lips meet and I calm. I calm, immediately. 

 

His lips are dry, but they’re not chapped. I’m slightly amazed by that. Mine are always chapped. We move closer together, my hands finding his waist, his hands tangle in my hair. Tingles run down my body as I deepen the kiss. 

 

I feel like I can’t get enough. It’s like I’m drowning, but I don’t care. Our chests press together but it doesn’t feel damn close enough. I kiss him more fervently, my blood beginning to feel hot in his veins. It’s no longer exhilarating to kiss Brendon. No, this time it feels different. It’s arousing. It’s sensual. 

 

My dream rings in my head. Making out with him, his lips and tongue, just like I am now. Fuck...

I’m overwhelmed by the electricity and euphoria I feel. How is it like this every time? It’s as if when we kiss, we’re finally alive. I’m finally alive, I should say. I’m finally… real. 

Electrified. 

I don’t understand this. I don’t understand the sudden attraction despite having never thought of Brendon this way before. I don’t understand how having Brendon’s lips touch mine makes me dizzy. I don’t understand why feeling Brendon’s body pressed up to me makes me aroused and not weirded out. I don’t know how to comprehend it all, but I’m sure enjoying myself. In fact, I didn’t even realize how much until Brendon’s tongue brushed up against mine and a deep groan rippled from my chest. 

Fucking hell, Brendon...

I feel a fire flicker in my stomach. Or maybe it’s lower than that…

Most definitely lower than that.

I pull away, quickly, my cock twitching in my pants. 

Shit. 

Brendon’s breathing heavily, his lips red and puffy. Shit. God, he’s so hot. 

I gulp, my boner steadily growing as I stare at his lips. 

“It’s okay…” Brendon whispers, his right hand dropping from my head down to my belt. 

I tense up with nerves. I’m staring into his eyes, but my mind is the way his hand is on my belt. Dear god…

“C-can I?” He asks, his eyes are bright but nervous. 

I know what he’s meaning and my cock hardens even more. I don’t know if I… Do I want that? Right now? Before a show? Do I want this ever?

I gulp and with a slow pace, I nod my head. 

If he wants to…

His eyes widen a little, and I can tell he’s trying not to grin. His other hand falls to my belt, undoing it quickly. His fingers are nimble because soon my zipper is unzipped. My cock is throbbing already, so the release of the jeans is very helpful. 

He rubs his hand over my erection, not pulling my dick out yet, just teasing. 

I let out a shaky exhale in response. 

HIs lips find mine and he coaxes my lips open, our mouth slipping into something spectacular. It makes my stomach flip and my skin burn. 

His hand find their way into my boxers and I hold my breath in anticipation. He frees my cock from the jeans they’ve been confined to. I try not to whine. He’s going slow. Deliberate. Calculated.

He strokes me, gently and I lose my breath entirely, forget holding it in. 

“Fuck.” I say, stupidly. But it’s the only thing on my mind. The only thing at all. I can’t believe this is even happening right now. 

He strokes me even quicker and I try not to moan loudly. A grunt escapes from my lips and he lets out a breathy exhale, like this is turning him on too. 

My eyes close shut as we fall into it. Him jerking me off and me biting on my bottom lip so I don’t moan loud enough for the guys outside to hear. God, that’d be a disaster. A fucking disaster. 

He removes his hand all of a sudden and I open my eyes in surprise. What the fuck? Why’d he stop?

He gazes at me, his eyes dark and his face flushed. And, then with these… these sexy, sultry eyes, he sinks onto his knees.”

 

“Fuck.” I breathe out. I’m dreaming. I really am. 

Well, that’s just fucking wonderful. 

He pulls my pants down. They fall around my ankles, my cock freed. His eyes widen as he is greeted by my dick. It’s not small. Anyone can see that. It’s the only thing I like about myself. 

He wraps a hand around the base of my cock to keep me steady and cock twitches in his hand. Dear god…

His lips wrap around the head of my cock, his tongue swiping over the slit. I’m putty in his hands. I groan without meaning to. 

Not a dream.

He takes more of me into his mouth and I can’t believe this is happening. It hits me just then. This is Brendon. My friend, Brendon. Blowing me. And, I’m loving it. 

His head begins to bob as he continues. Fucking hell… He’s good at this. My god. 

My hand comes to grip into his hair. I don’t mean to pull on it, but pleasure is flickering up my spine so fast that I can’t help it. He groans around me and I shudder. 

His hands rest of my hips, drawing circles with his thumbs. And, the noises… the suckling and other obscene, dirty noises, god they are so sexy. 

I’ve gotten a blowjob plenty of times. Jac was pretty good at those. But, this was something else entirely. This I can feel in my gut. Something about it… 

Maybe Brendon just has a magic mouth. 

He moans again, vibrating around my cock and I gasp, looking down at him. I’m surprised when we lock eyes, his eyes sultry and sexy. He’s so hot, I can barely stand it. 

His head keeps bobbing, his shiny, swollen lips meeting his hand that he has curled around me. With one swift move, his hand is gone, my cock reaching the back of this throat. 

Holy fucking god. 

It doesn’t take me long to come after that. Perhaps, it’s the wet dream I had of him earlier, or the fact that he’s fucking good at blowjobs, but I’m mush. 

He pulls back, standing up. He grabs some toilet paper and spits my come into it, throwing it in the trash can. And, when he turns back to me, my insides fill with want. 

His mouth is red and swollen, his lips shiny. I try not to shiver. 

He stares back at me in wait, like he’s anticipating what I’m going to say. 

What is there to say? 

I have the decency to be embarrassed that I’m half naked so I pull up my pants, quickly. 

What the fuck just happened?

My hands feel shaky. From the orgasm? Or nerves?

I run a hand through my hair again. Shit. I look up at Brendon, gulping. My eyes look him up and down and I freeze when I notice he’s sporting a large boner. Oh shit. I look back up at him, nervously. 

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay.” He says, reading my mind. “You don’t have to.” His voice is raspy. He’s turned on. 

I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, again. “Ryan, it’s okay.” He rushes over to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Just give me a minute in here, okay? You need to finish getting ready.”

I nod my head. “Um, o-okay.” I walk to the door. My knees feel weak. I’m unsteady. 

I open the door and slip out. God, I hope I don’t look obvious. 

Spencer and Jon greet me with a smile, drinking their beers. 

“Feeling better?” Spencer asks, kindly.

You have no idea. 

“A bit.” I say, my voice hoarse. I walk over to the mirror. 

I’m flushed. 

It’s so obvious.

Brendon reemerges a little while later, flushing the toilet to make it seem like we weren’t just in there doing… that. I’m paranoid that Spencer and Jon know, but they don’t say a word. 

Brendon doesn’t act weird. He offers me a friendly smile and finishes getting ready. 

My head’s still spinning. How is he okay? 

We play the show. Business as usual. The whole time, I’m distracted. I’m trying to comprehend the conversations and the backstage blowjobs that happened. What does it all mean? What will this change?

Brendon told me to guide him. What good that’s gonna do? There’s no track to follow. No book on this. I’m at a loss. 

How do you guide someone when you don’t know where to lead them to?

We get back on the bus and I make my way to my bunk, quietly. Brendon doesn’t seem angry about my isolation. He’s not as upset as he was earlier about me ignoring him. I wonder what changed? Did the blowjob quiet his worries? 

All these questions are making my head hurt. 

I dig through my stuff, finding my sleeping pills. I pop two in and lay back down. 

Sleeping sounds a hell of a lot better than being awake right now. 

I’m too confused to function. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

The invention of drugs had to be one of the greatest inventions ever made. 

 

That sounds bad, because you’re always told that drugs are bad. But, from a scientific standpoint, you have to see that it’s amazing. To find a plant in the wild, ingest it, and learn they help pain or help you calm down. Or be able to mix chemicals to create some kind of wonder drug. To make a pill for the masses, that took skill. We, as humans, made something amazing.

 

I know drugs are bad. I’ve heard that my whole life. They say you can get addicted and all that shit. But, I’m stronger than that.  _ Way _ stronger than that. I have self control. Loads of it. I know my limits. I’m not an addict. The pills just help me. 

 

Besides, what I’m taking barely counts as drugs anyway. Maybe name wise, but it’s different. Does everyone want me to not be able to go onstage because of drowsiness? No. Do they want me to have a migraine all day? No. So, who was it hurting? Just because I started taking heavy painkillers doesn’t mean I’m an addict. I just had to move to painkillers. Speed was giving me migraines. 

 

I still take it. I can’t not have energy on stage. So, I take some before the show. Mixed with Valium, you get all of the perks of energy without the paranoia of it all. The anxiety was the worst. Now, I have no problem. And, when I get offstage and have a massive headache, I take a Vicodin. Sometimes, I’ll take it in the morning too, because I get a migraine when I don’t take anything. At night, to get me to sleep, I take an Ambien. 

 

Problems solved.

 

It’s like some kind of scientifically calculated system. It’s what I run on. Like a machine. A well oiled machine. 

 

I wish things could be like that in everything else too. Lately, nothing runs like a machine. Nothing’s that easy. Touring has been more grueling lately on all of us. Even the drugs I take don’t help the ache that being on the road can give you. Trust me, I’ve tried to numb the ache with painkillers. That doesn’t last for long. 

 

Maybe that’s why a lot musicians are drugs addicts. 

 

Brendon and I are still just as confusing of an issue as we were before. Only, maybe more so. Because before, there wasn’t anything going on. Now… now there’s something. I don’t know how to define it. But, he helps.

 

It’s loneliness. That’s all it is. It has to be. I refuse to let myself think it’s anything more than that. It’s a wet mouth. It’s a warm hand. It’s nothing special.

 

But, it is special. Something about it. It’s so new. It’s so foreign. It’s exhilarating. It’s addicting.

 

I hate it. 

 

So far, I haven’t taken anything in hours. No speed, no valium, no vicodin. It’s a record for me. But, that’s only because there was no time. After we got off the stage, we were signing albums and records and all sorts of shit. Boobs, even. I hardly remember it. 

 

After the signing, we all went back to the hotel for a party. Hotel room parties are easier, I find. I tend to know everyone there. They know me. They know I don’t party so we keep our distance. It’s nice. 

 

I haven’t been drinking. No, I don’t drink much. After what I saw my old man go through, liquor is staying far away from my liver. 

 

Brendon hasn’t sat near me. We’ve been trying to keep things as secret as possible. Or at least, I have. He’s been compliant. I’m still constantly paranoid that someone will be bombarding me with questions about him. Someone’s bound to have noticed something. The flushed cheeks? The red lips? The long bathroom breaks together? Or maybe we’ve just been good at being sneaky. Or, quite possibly it’s because we’ve only managed to make out maybe once more since the first time. And, the makeout session in the bathroom didn’t end up with any happy ending waiting in store. Before it got good, we had to go onstage.

 

Worst show ever.

 

I’m stuck on the wall, observing the crowd. All of the crew is here. Including Zack, who has been pawning off a few party drugs off to people. The roadies like to get fucked up on some shit. 

 

I wonder what it is. I want to know those things. What it is, what effect it has. I like to know those things. Research, perhaps. Or curiosity. Either one is correct. I almost go over to try some when a pair of eyes meet mine. 

 

Brown eyes. Sultry eyes. A wicked smile pulling across his face. 

 

I twitch a smile back at him. 

 

He moves. Away from the roadies he’s been seated with, away from Spencer and Jon. He moves towards me. Bold move. But, he’s a bold person. 

 

“Hi.” He greets, a beer in hand. 

 

“Hey.” I return. 

 

“Cool party, huh?” He asks, a smirk on his stupidly, sexy lips. 

 

I shrug my shoulders in indifference. “It’s alright.” 

 

“Not having fun?” He cocks his head to the side with a grin. 

 

I don’t answer. I lift my eyebrows a little as a response. 

 

He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out. Suddenly, that’s the only detail of him I can focus on. “Anything I can do to help that?”

 

A million dirty fantasies flash in my mind. Him on his knees again. Him on all fours. Him, him, him. I manage to blush despite my brain telling me not to. I think Brendon knows what he did to me because he just smirks. And, I hate that stupid fucking smirk. Makes me want to kiss it right off him. 

 

This whole situation still fucks me up in the head, but when the tension is this strong, I tend to not be able to think clearly anymore. 

 

I used to pride myself on my rationality. What good that’s done me.

 

“Want to get out of here?” Brendon’s tipsy as he leans close to me with a giggle. I can smell the beer on him. He’s too close to me for my comfort and I just pray to whatever eternal power is above us to not let anyone notice the way he’s looking at me. He’s eyeing me up and down with a silly grin. 

 

I press my lips together. I know what he’s suggesting. And, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me but I want to go with him. Go anywhere. Kiss, touch, bite, taste, smell, fuck. The thought alone makes my blood swirl. 

 

I’ve had dreams of him again. Sexy ones. Ones that left me with wet underwear in the morning. I swear, this thing is more out of control than I realize. I’m a man of control. I control everything I can. Including my energy levels. And, yet, this feels like a fire ready to consume me in its devouring rage. I keep expecting it to go out. The fire to cease. Or maybe I’m hoping it will. It’s all too blurred for me to pick out. 

 

“Ryan.” Brendon tries again, his tone of voice a little more demanding. 

 

“Sure.” I mumble, the words escaping my lips without warning. 

 

Brendon grins and takes a step back. “I’m in room 204. It’s just down the hall.” He whispers to me. 

 

I glance around the party again in paranoia. But no one’s looking. I gulp, looking back at Brendon. “I’ll meet you in five.” I tell him. 

 

He looks disappointed for a moment, his face falling, but he returns to smiley Brendon in an instant, nodding his head. “Alright.” He grants. He gives me a seductive smile as he steps away, snaking through a group of people as he leaves. 

 

  1. Got it. 204. 



 

I wait a few moments. God, it feels like it’s been ages. I don’t have a watch on me but, it doesn’t matter. The visuals I’m getting in my head are far too hot to stay in the party any longer. I can hardly feel my cock itching to come to life. 

 

This is a big deal. This is more than a big deal. This is… this is more intimate than anything else. God, I’m not sure I’m ready for this. 

 

I take a deep breath, my head hitting the wall I’m leaning against as I close my eyes. 

 

My imagination runs away from me as I hear Brendon’s pants in my ear. Pants I’ve heard the few times we’ve made out. The breathless gasps, the groans. 

 

God, I am so ready for this. 

 

I leave the party, quickly. I can’t wait. I need to get off before I get nervous and change my mind. My mind is racing again, the way it does when I’m off my drugs. I need to get high again, but there’s no time for that. There’s only time for this.

 

Getting high on Brendon in some fucked up way, I guess. 

 

I reach the room faster than I thought possible. I knock on the door and anxiously await a response. I try to picture what Brendon might’ve been doing in my absence. What he might be getting ready for tonight. It makes my stomach churn nervously. God, we’re really doing this. We’re crossing this line. A line we’ll never come back from. Not that getting head from your best friend is easy to come back from either. 

 

How the hell did we reach this point?

 

The door swings open, pulling me from my anxious thoughts. 

 

Brendon grins, devilishly and cocks his hip, casually. “That wasn’t five minutes.” He tells me.

 

“What?” I ask, blinking at him. 

 

“You told me five minutes. It hasn’t been five minutes.”

 

“Oh, I, uh…” I bite my lip, awkwardly. 

 

He grins, widely and shakes his head. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. “Get in here.” He grabs my shirt and pulls me in. 

 

I don’t know what I expected after I entered the room. I’m not sure I expected anything. Perhaps, I thought we’d just get to it. Just start fucking each other. But, the air is too heavy for that. I feel the weight of it on me. My heart is beating fast and my palms are feeling clammy. 

 

Brendon’s hand comes to interlace with mine and I flinch a little. He squeezes it comfortingly, and leans up, planting a kiss on my cheek. Although, he doesn’t pull back. He kisses from my cheek to my chin, slowly, his lips moving from my chin to my neck. 

 

My breathing is shallower than before and I let my eyes close as he sucks on some skin. His hands find my hips, leaving my hands by my side and he pulls me closer. I’m frozen in submission, but god, is it enjoyable. 

 

He steps closer, moving down my neck as he presses himself flush against me. His lips travel back up as he pulls away just slightly before gently placing a kiss on my lips. It’s tentative. It’s sweet. It’s tender. I feel like I’ve melted a little. 

 

His lips part as he coaxes mine into a rhythm with his. It’s slow and sensual, and full of an unspoken passion. I’m like putty in his grip.

 

As the kiss deepens, my hands suddenly return to their former life, finding their way into his hair. I pull his head closer, kissing him with a little more fervor. God, I never thought it’d feel like this. 

 

He moans softly, vibration on my lips and I feel tingles run down my body. God… do that again. 

 

The kiss deepens and deepens, the pace quickening and quickening. But, I feel impatient. I feel under his t-shirt, my fingers dancing across his lower back. He arches into my hand and I suppress a groan. God… 

 

His lips are on my neck again, biting and sucking. God, it feels amazing. The groan I was trying to repress escapes from my mouth and Brendon sighs in response. 

 

He pulls at my shirt, lifting it a little from my stomach. I’m nervous. I’m not a huge fan of myself naked. But, now’s not the time for self consciousness. No, this is too sexy to be ruined. I lift my arms and we part as he pulls my shirt off of me. 

 

His lips crash into mine again as he guides me away from the door and towards the bed. It’s uncoordinated and I feel like I’m walking with my eyes closed, but soon I’m pushed down onto the bed, my back flopping onto it, ungracefully. At least, I’m not awkwardly dancing around. 

 

Brendon strips off his shirt, climbing on top of me, pressing his lips into mine. God, he’s gorgeous. He straddles me, my hands coming to grope his ass. He lets out a short, aroused sound, his hips coming to grind down on mine. And, oh god, that feels good. I groan, bucking my hips a little to meet him. We pant against each other, breaking the kiss to catch our breath. My cock is throbbing painfully, and I can feel Brendon hard against me too. 

 

“God, Ryan.” Brendon groans, biting his lip, sexily. His lips are a perfect red and I can’t take it. I lean up, drawing his earlobe into my mouth and sucking. He lets out a shaky breath. I don’t know if I’m just good at finding his turn ons or not, but he sure is vocal about if I’m doing something right. Thank god, I’m doing something right. 

 

His hands reach down, unbuckling my belt quickly. I lift my ass off the bed as he pulls down my jeans and boxers at the same time, my cock releasing from its confines.

 

Brendon pulls them down my legs, taking off my shoes and socks before discarding my jeans to the floor. He goes ahead and unzips his pants, dropping them to the floor, leaving him naked too. I feel a little disappointed that I didn’t get to do the honors. But, then he’s on me again, our dicks brushing together and I forget to breathe, let alone be disappointed. 

 

We grind again, our dicks finding friction. God, it’s intoxicating. 

 

“Ryan.” He moans out. Fuck, I love it when he does that. 

 

I groan in response, my mind too far gone to form coherent words. 

 

He stops, suddenly, reaching over me to the end table. I look to see where he’s laid out lube and a condom. I gulp, nervously. Wait… me? I’m the bottom? My eyes widen in fear. No… no this isn’t what I thought it would be. I thought… I mean, I expected… 

 

God, I realize now that I have no idea what I’m in for. 

 

He comes back over me, giving me a smile, but it falls quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” He asks. I hear an edge to his voice. He’s nervous too. 

 

“I… I don’t want to.” I stammer. 

 

“What?” He asks, again. This time, his voice sounds hurt. 

 

“I-I can’t. I don’t want to do it like this.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” He asks, sitting up in concern. 

 

“I just, I didn’t expect it to be me.” I bite my lip. 

 

“You… didn’t expect it to be you? Well, who else would I sleep with?” He asks, forcing a laugh.

 

“No,” I stop him, shaking my head, “I didn’t expect me to be the, um, the one on the, um, the b-bottom.” I manage to stutter out. 

 

His eyebrows raise high on his forehead and he shakes his head. “What?” He looks disbelieving. “No, no, no. You’re not going to-- I was gonna bottom.” He tells me and I feel like I can breathe again. He leans back over me, his hot breath washing over my face. “Because, I really,  _ really _ , want you to fuck me.” He whispers, breathlessly. 

 

I shiver in delight, my cock twitching. 

 

His kisses the corner of my mouth, moving to the soft spot behind my ear. “I’ve been thinking about it for months.” He breathes out. “How good you’d feel. What it’d be like to have you inside me.” He moans in my ear. 

 

I grip his hips as I breathe out, shakily. Fuck… 

 

I flip us over, knowing that now I have a job to do. I have to take action. I crash our lips together, working up the courage to do this. He moans, loudly against my lips. Fuck, I didn’t expect it to feel like this. 

 

I reach over, grabbing the lube and pouring some onto my fingers. Brendon’s eyes are dark as he spreads his legs for me. My insides burn with want at the sight. I’m honestly surprised by how much this is turning me on and not freaking me out. But, fuck, this is the most licentious thing I’ve ever witnessed. 

 

I move over him and kiss him again, my tongue fucking his mouth fervently. When I pull back, Brendon whines and I take that as a request. 

 

I try to locate his entrance as quick as I can but it takes some wandering, but then I feel it and I push a finger in to just get this show on the road. 

 

Brendon bites on his lip as I move my finger inside of him. He’s tight. Fuck, he’s tight. The thought of fucking that tight heat makes my stomach drip with desire. I add a second finger and he gasps, softly. 

 

I am more concentrated on him than me at the moment. I’m studying his face to see what kind of pleasure or pain he’s experiencing.

 

I don’t understand how this could be pleasurable. It must be painful. And, it’s not like a girl’s vagina at all. There’s no spots to hit. Right? God, I should’ve researched this more. 

 

“Ryan!” Brendon cries out. 

 

I stand corrected. 

 

I don’t know what I did that made him spasm in such pleasure but I try to do it again, in hopes of getting another reaction. It takes awhile but he moans again, his muscles clenching around my fingers.

 

I slip in a third finger, knowing he’s obviously getting something out of this. My erection is throbbing and pulsating but I’m not about to skip this important step. Anything to ensure the least amount of pain. I’m too empathetic of a person to not care about him. 

 

I’m not sure how long to finger him for. How long is too long or too quick? But, I must be going on too long because Brendon is moaning, helplessly and shaking his head. “Ryan, please.” He begs. “Please, fuck me.”

 

I lose all my breath. I pull my fingers out of him and nod my head. Yeah, yeah, of course. Yeah, anything. I grab the condom and try to open it, quickly, but my fingers are too slippery from the lube. I rip it open with my teeth and roll it on, the lube making everything difficult. 

 

But, then I’ve got it on and I’ve got a decent amount of lube spread onto it. 

 

Here goes nothing. 

 

Brendon takes things upon himself as he turns over to get on his hands and knees. 

 

My eyes widen, suddenly frozen in submission as shock sets in. 

 

No. Wait… this isn’t what I want. This isn’t how I’ve fantasized it. Of course, I’ve never really fantasized about it before now, so maybe this was standard. Maybe Brendon knows what’s protocol in these situations. But, doggy style seems too disconnected. 

 

Then again, this isn’t subject I’ve studied for very long. That’s becoming clearer and clearer to me. God, I’m so bad at this. 

 

From what I’ve researched myself, on the bus, in the dark bunk, with my phone on private browsing, I know there are more positionings than just this one. We just need to figure out, anatomically, how to maneuver ourselves to fit. 

 

Although, this is a good view. I can’t complain. Brendon’s muscular back now taut, his spine leading all the way down to where his ass is perched. I blink, my eyelids serving as a camera shutter as I try to capture this image in my head. This gorgeously erotic image. 

 

But still, I don’t want to fuck Brendon like that. Not the first time. Because I’ve heard that it hurts. Fingers are one thing. A cock, another. I don’t want it to hurt. I want to look in his eyes and analyze whether what I’m doing is painful or not. Brendon’s eyes are always so expressive. I know I’d be able to differentiate between facial expressions full of pain or pleasure. 

 

“Wait.” I stop him, taking hold of his hip and pull him around so we’re face to face. “I…” want to see your face. I want to see the face that contorts into the sexiest of expressions when you're feeling something good. I want to see your eyes widen, your mouth drop open. I want to see your cheeks redden and that wicked smile you get when you know you're turning me on. I want to see it. I want that. 

 

I want… you…

 

“I want to face you…” I clear my throat, awkwardly since my pause had gone on for too long. “S-so I can see if I'm doing something right or w-wrong.” 

 

Brendon relaxes against the mattress, his eyes staring up at me, sweetly. “Okay.” He breathes, lifting his knees up. 

 

I help lift his legs at the knee, moving closer as him. My breath catches in my throat as my dick brushes against his skin. 

 

Scientifically, I understand this. And in my mind, I’ve done this so many times to Brendon. But, reality has a way of ruining any plans I have. Maybe I’m just cursed. I can believe that. 

 

My heart is beating out of my chest as I hover over Brendon. I gulp, feeling more awkward and exposed and nervous than ever before. 

 

I’m out of my element. 

 

I don’t know what it takes to please a man. I’ve studied girls and know exactly how what makes them tick. A clit massage, a strategic placement of the penis, it’s not rocket science. But a dude? What makes them sweat in a situation like this? How can I make sure I’m giving Brendon the most pleasure? How can I be certain that I’m not just causing pain every time I push in? How, how, how?

 

I snap out of my thoughts, realizing that all I’m doing is hovering over Brendon, breathing anxiously. Brendon looks nervous too. He can lie all he wants for my benefit and pretend he’s not scared by this, but I know the truth. But to him, it doesn’t matter if it hurts or if it doesn’t work. He just wants to feel closer and I honestly can’t believe someone like that exists. 

 

I lean down to kiss him, just to make up for any lost time that I’ve spent fretting over this. My lips move against his sweet lips in a deep kiss as I balance myself on my arm and begin to guide myself in. 

 

Of course, my trajectory is off and my dick is far away from the hole it’s trying to enter. God, this is pathetic. I pull away from the kiss and blush, embarrassedly, looking down to where I’m guiding myself. As soon as I do, my eyes become glued to that spot, watching myself sink into Brendon at a ridiculously slow pace. 

 

Overwhelming, brain melting, fiery pleasure flickers through me. Holy fucking god. This feels like heaven. I’ve never felt anything so tight and pleasurable in my entire life. This was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before. 

 

Brendon gasps when I find my way inside of him, but I don’t remember much else. My brain is too disconnected from my body to work properly. 

 

I push in slowly, until I reach the hilt and that's when I can’t hold it in anymore. I moan out loudly, surprising even myself. I’m not usually a vocal lover. A grunt here and there when it gets good. But, god, I’m not so sure how to stay quiet when it feels so good. God, I’m not gonna last long. I already feel wound too tight. 

 

“Fuck…” I groan, dropping my head onto the pillow in between Brendon’s shoulder and head. I don’t move. I don’t do anything except hold onto the last grips of reality I have. This is too much. All too much. 

 

I suddenly remember that there is someone else a part of this too. A person that is more than a body. Although, Brendon’s body is making me feel like I’m in some transcendental world. 

 

I lift my head up quickly in concern, furrowing my brow at Brendon with worry. “Are you okay?” I ask, not daring to move a muscle before Brendon says to. 

 

Brendon’s eyes meet mine, his brow knitted together. I can’t tell whether he’s in pain or not. I wish I could. He nods his head. “Yeah.” His voice breathless and sexy.

 

I take an experimental thrust, a groan escaping my lips. Jesus christ. That’s so  _ good _ . Brendon moans too, with me. I am almost taken aback. I’m still finding it hard to believe that this can have any sort of effect on him besides pain. 

 

I, on the other hand, can’t believe how amazing this feels. This feels like something other than sex. This feels otherworldly. Being inside of him, his ass tight and hot, it’s like heaven. My hips start to move, pulling back before pushing back in. I’m breathless. I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe properly at all. Brendon’s breathing is shaky with each thrust. 

 

God, I didn’t expect it to feel so intense. We’ve gotten into a good rhythm now and I’m pathetically groaning like I’ve never fucked before. But, I haven’t. Not like this. Not in this way. 

 

I’m drowning, my head feels dizzy. And, Brendon… god, Brendon’s fucking beautiful when he’s getting fucked. His mouth is hanging open, moans escaping from it, helplessly. His hands are gripping into my back, his legs lifted high. He’s calling my name. Fuck, I love that. I kiss him every time he does. It’s too good to resist. 

 

He’s sweating now too. Sweating and swearing and we’re both helplessly surrendered to the pleasure. My lips feel raw but I keep kissing him, reveling with every gasp or moan he makes. 

 

“ _ Ryan _ !” He cries, his back arching off the bed. 

 

I halt for a moment, shocked by the sudden change in him. “What? What?” God, what just happened?

 

“Do that again.” He moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

 

I blink at him, my pulse beating rapidly. God, he’s hot. I begin to fuck him again, harder than before. If he was getting pleasure then I most definitely need to do that for him again. I try to remember what I even did. It was just… it was something. God, why can’t I remember what?

 

But, then it happens again and I remember. He moans out, loudly. “Yeah, yeah, god, like that.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

 

I keep up the rhythm, keeping up the angle that’s making him shudder. He’s reached down to touch himself now, his groans sounding entirely more guttural than ever before. And, I’m doing that. Fuck, I’m doing that to him. 

 

My pulse is burning, getting hotter and hotter. I’m right on the edge. So close to the edge. I try my best to hold on. My moans are escaping as I get close. “Fuck…” I breathe out.

 

“I know.” Brendon agrees with me, although I’m not sure what I meant. He did, apparently. And, oh god, yes. Whatever it was, yes. 

 

“Oh god, oh god,” He repeats, sounding far gone. His back arches off of the bed as his muscles clench tightly around my dick. “ _ Fuck _ .”

 

He’s coming undone. 

 

I look down to where he’s got his hand on his cock, semen rolling down the side of it. It’s all too much. The tightness of his ass, the sweat, the sex. I can’t handle it. My vision blurs as I follow him off the edge. 

 

For a few, long, glorious seconds, I’m in complete bliss. Heaven. Euphoria. Feeling higher than I’ve ever felt before. But, it ends, fades off, leaving me breathless and enchanted. 

 

Brendon’s staring up at me with a smile. I’m panting, helplessly. I collapse, my head resting in the pillow beside his head. He chuckles, softly, his arms coming to wrap around my sweaty back. 

 

I’m dead. I swear, I’ve left this earth. 

 

I stay nestled into him for a while, my mind still blacking out in shock. But, when I manage to reawaken, I lean back up, pulling out of Brendon and rolling off. I pull off my condom and throw it in the trash can before laying back down, slowly.

 

What the fuck just happened?

 

Brendon wastes no time, immediately moving to cuddle into my side, his head resting on my chest. I don’t move to cuddle him back. Not because that doesn’t sound lovely, but just because I’m too tired to function properly. 

 

“Wow.” I whisper, breathlessly. 

 

Brendon chuckles, softly, pressing a kiss into my chest. “I agree.” He leans down and grabs the blankets, pulling them up over us. 

 

I’m too shocked to be upset by any of this. Maybe I should be. Maybe, I should leave. Just duck out of the room before any of this goes any further. But, I don’t. I can’t. I’m glued to the bed and glued to Brendon and for some reason, that’s the only place I want to be. 

 

We don’t speak. Either, he’s as speechless as me, or he’s being polite and not making me speak about any of this. 

 

Either way, this is going to change everything.


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t know man. I think Bob Dylan’s got everyone beat.” Jon says, shrugging his shoulders.

Spencer laughs, shaking his head. “No fucking way, man. I don’t have time for your bullshit. Blink-182 is still the best band ever.” He argues.

I hear them, but I’m not really listening. They’re arguing over bands and Jon’s sticking with his holier-than-thou taste, and Spencer’s sticking with his pop punk tastes. I can’t argue a side. I like them both. Both Bob Dylan and Blink.

I’m lost in my thoughts. My confusing, swirling thoughts. They’ve been more muddled lately, and in some ways, more clear than ever.

We fucked. I know that. I’m not freaked out by that. It felt amazing. It felt like heaven. But, I don’t know if I want to do it again.

It was… it was too intense. Too spectacular. It was scary.

We’re chilling at a cafe until soundcheck. Richie thought it’d be a good idea for us to eat some real food. Our bus fridge is full of shit, anyway so we oblige. I can’t eat much. I don’t feel like it. For some reason, I’m craving something sweet. Like a lollipop. Or maybe some cake.

Brendon’s sitting across from me, sticking some french fries into his mouth. We haven’t really talked about… it. But, that morning went pretty well. I didn’t flee like my instincts told me to, and he didn’t suddenly act like we were boyfriends.

It’s casual, he and I.

He smiles at me and I half expect him to quip about me getting lost in my head again, but he doesn’t. And, for once, my thoughts aren’t troubling me. I’m no longer as melancholic. I think the painkillers are working. They kill more than the physical pain. Thank god.

“You’re forgetting Fleetwood Mac.” Brendon adds, a smile on his lips.

He looks beautiful. Still. That hasn’t changed.

He looks beautiful sitting there with food in his mouth and he looks beautiful when he’s in bed with me, back arching, brow knitted together, mouth dropped open as he--

“Ryan,”

I snap out of my dirty thoughts, blinking rapidly.

“What do you think?” Spencer asks, turning the question over to me.

I blink, rapidly. “U-um…” I look down at the plate of untouched food. I tap my foot, nervously, shrugging my shoulders.

“He’s probably gonna say the Beatles or some cliche like that.” Jon gripes with a laugh.

“Hey, you chose Bob Dylan. That’s not cliche?” Brendon defends me, picking on Jon in the process.

“Shut up.” Jon’s lips tighten.

I smile a little.

It’s nice when he sticks up for me. He always has. I’m not too stupid to ignore the past. After all, apparently he’d had a previous crush on me.

I don’t know what we are.

Friends or lovers? Maybe both. You can be both. Friends with benefits.

Sadly, though, tour’s preventing us from reaping those benefits. The bus is hardly discreet, and sneaking off isn’t all that easy. It’d be different for us if we were different people. Had different jobs. But, we aren’t different people. We’re ourselves.

Sadly.

“Billy Joel.” Spencer says, for the hell of it.

I look up and laugh a little. Spencer gives me a grin.

“Are we just naming musicians now?” I ask, incredulously.

Spencer gives a nonchalant shrug, but his smirk is unmistakable. Now, he’s just making fun of us. He’s mocking me and Jon and even Brendon.

I shake my head and look away.

I think this is the first time we’ve done this in awhile. Hung out like old friends. Tour has a way of alienating you from people. Living on top of each other for months on end really doesn’t help. Every time tour ends, we’re all happy. We get a fucking break. We don’t have to breathe each other’s air for a few moments. It’s nice.

I love the guys to death, I’d do anything for them, but alone time is sacred. You don’t get that on a bus.

“Queen.” I say, looking over at Brendon, knowing he’d agree.

Brendon’s eyes light up and that. That should be illegal. The feelings I get when he looks at me like that. I remind myself that it’s just because I’ve named his favorite band. It’s not any other reason than that.

Except, that I know better than that. We haven’t been intimate again lately, but there’s a closeness that has remained around us. We shared something. You can’t come back from that.

We haven’t been able to share it again and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed. In fact, we haven’t shared much of anything, lately. The tour’s starting to kick our asses. We’re halfway through and it’s starting to show. The motivation is beginning to lack. The stamina is leaving.

Just a few months left.

Passing the time with Brendon would be nice, though. It’d made it a hell of a lot easier.

But, I’m not stupid. Sneaking around is nearly impossible whilst on tour. Where’s the privacy? The room to yourself? If we’re not asleep in our bunks, we’re sitting down to do an interview or we’re getting ready backstage. That hardly leaves any time to conduct a secret… well, whatever we’re doing.

“You all are living in the past man!” Spencer gripes and I laugh.

The past is a better place to be, my friend.

“Fine, fine.” Brendon clears his throat. He starts to list off more recent bands and Spencer begins to argue with him over it. Apparently, some of Brendon’s picks weren’t good enough for Spencer’s taste. He’s picky, that one.

Jon and I don’t comment. We just sit there and enjoy. Camaraderie. Friendship. Morale.

The band could use some of that, nowadays.

 

\---

 

“Good luck out there.” Brendon says.

I turn my head to view him as he slides over to me, standing by my side. He's got his eyeliner, his ruffled shirt and suit jacket on. Ready to go. Everyone's just ready to go.

Everyone but me.

God, I was so stupid to let my stash get so empty. Fucking stupid.

“Don't be nervous.” He says, soothingly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He draws me into his arms. I don't put up a fight as he hugs me, but I don't do much to hug him back.

“It'll be alright, really.” He goes on, pulling his head back to look at me.

“Sure.” I say, huffing. It won't be alright. I don't feel the same buzz, the same burst of energy. It's like I've been turned into a zombie all over again. Tired and weak, only this time, I don't have the paralyzingly fear of walking on that stage. In fact, I don't feel anything at all. I'm numb. Yeah, that's a great way to play a show.

I love the numbness usually. During the day, I pop so many xanax and Valium into my mouth so I don’t have to feel anything because that's better than what I used to feel. I used to empty. I used to feel meaningless. I was a waste of space.

I still am a waste of space, only this time, I can escape those bad thoughts with a prescription. With a pill.

Others do it. Why can't I?

My mother was the poster girl for prescription drugs when I was a kid. That was before she left. One of the only things I remember of her was taking pills after my father and her had a fight. He was drunk. She was numb. They worked. Well, until they didn't. And she left me all alone with an alcoholic who didn't give a shit.

Thanks mom. I love you too.

The lights go out, signaling that it's time for our entrance. I break away from Brendon feeling like we've embraced for too long already.

“Woo! Let's go!” Spencer chimes from behind us, taking the first step onto the stage. Jon’s on the other side, walking into his place.

Brendon enters next and I'm left in the dark. And in some ways, I feel it suits me. To be in the dark, all alone with my guitar rather than on that stage.

The show goes as terribly as I expect. I really need to start making it a priority to make sure I don’t run out. I’ve already planned my speech to Zack, ready to beg him for more money. It’s all there in my head, if I could just get over there.

I shove my guitar onto my guitar tech. He hurries away with it as I go for the waters. I chug some water down in frustration.

God, what a shit show.

I call myself a guitarist? A performer?

Out there on the stage, I was some talentless beginner who barely had a chance in music. I guess I do need the pills. I need them to not only function, but to perform. I need them to put on a good show.

I need them.

Why is that so bad? Why can’t you need things anymore? Why do you have to feel guilty over it?

I find Zack, quickly, dashing up beside him. He tries to ignore me as he loads up Spencer’s drum kit.

“I need more.” I demand, angrily.

“That takes money.”

“I have money. I need it now.” I grumble.

“We shouldn’t be discussing this here.” Zack says through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care where we should or shouldn’t be discussing this!” I say, exasperatedly. “I just played the shittiest show ever. I need something.”

“Well, newsflash, I have to get it for you. So, you’re gonna have to wait a few fucking moments.” He fumes.

“Not good enough.” I tell him, feeling my hope slipping away. No, no, no! No waiting. Now.

“Fucking hell.” He swears and stands up from the drums in frustration. He looks hulking as he looms over me. I flinch in worry that he’ll punch the daylights out of me. “Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay? Now, you’ve got to leave me alone. We can’t talk here.” He tells me in a hushed whisper.

I shake my head at him, but let him walk away. God, the bastard. Doesn’t he know that he works for me? Why doesn’t he just drop what he’s doing to get me what I need?

Frustrated, I walk back to the dressing room, defeated. I feel lower than before. I need an upper, desperately. Those have become my saving grace. But, there isn’t any in sight.

That is, until I hear Jon in the dressing room, discussing some party that is going on. A big, loud party with booze and drugs. I’m never one for parties, but for some reason, I feel desperate to go. I may be able to score in the very least some weed. Or, I could get drunker than I’ve ever been because right now, I need something.

“I’m up for it.” I say, out of nowhere.

The guys turn their heads to look at me, all with different looks of shock. Jon’s even got his mouth hanging open.

What? Is it that odd?

“You want to go to the party?” Brendon asks, disbelievingly.

“Sure. Why not?” I shrug, indifferently.

There’s a silence that falls over us. I move to get dressed as it drags on. I think I’ve just given my bandmates the shock of the century. But, really, it’s because of my cravings, or whatever you want to call them.

My desire to party goes unopposed and soon I’m in a club, surrounded by tons of people and trying my best to nurse my vodka. I’ve never been one for drink so the vodka isn’t sliding down my throat very easily. I’m taking the smallest sips in the world and it’s doing nothing for my craving.

I spot Jon with a joint in his mouth and I make my way over, determinedly. “Hey.” I greet, briefly.

“Wassup.” Jon grins at me. He’s obviously already high as a kite.

“Where’d you score the weed?” I ask, my voice sounding oddly aggressive even to my own ears. Luckily, Jon’s too high to care.

“A dude over there somewhere. I think Gabe’s got some weed too, though.” Pause. I blink. “You know Gabe. The roadie with the long brown hair. Here, there he is.” Jon explains, shoving a finger over at the boy in question.

I don’t recognize him, but I don’t notice the roadies all that much. Regardless, I walk over, anyway. They’re bound to know me. I offer Gabe a hesitant smile, not sure how to go about this. I don’t really want to just demand something from him, considering I don’t know him.

Gabe looks at me with a smile. “Hey, Ryan, good to see you at a party for once.”

I offer him a polite smile. “Yeah, well, I just… I’ve been feeling the need to get out. Escape the bus.”

Gabe grins. He looks high as fuck. “Mm, yeah, getting out is great.” He hums in agreement. “God, do you feel that?” He asks, looking around the room.

“Feel what?”

“The music man. I can feel it in my toes.” He starts to dance. Then and there. I’m shocked by his freedom. He starts to laugh, uncontrollably as he dances, his arms flailing about. Either he’s just gone insane or he’s on something other than weed.

“Sounds… fun?” I ask, not sure if feeling music in your toes is a good thing or not.

“It’s wonderful.” He moans, ceasing his dance to close his eyes.

Definitely on something.

“Dude, man, this shit is amazing.” Gabe calls out. To whom, I’m not entirely sure. But, it only confirms what I already know.

“What shit?” I ask, curiously.

Gabe giggles at me, wiggling his eyebrows. He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a baggie full of multicolored pills. “Molly’s in the house tonight. Here, have some.” He offers, shoving the bag into my hands.

I blink, my eyes roaming over the pills.

“If you really want to have a good time, those will help.”

I stare, my heart pounding in my ears. I did say I needed a fix. Well… maybe this is it. I take one out of the bag, because I’m not stupid. I know it’s a gradual thing. I’m not going to go too hard too soon.

I pop the pill in my mouth and swig it down with some vodka. The vodka burns my throat and I can’t help but cough. But, the pill is down.

Now, I just have to wait for it to take effect.

 

And, now, I’m always a sucker for a good song. One that resonates with you. One that you can listen on repeat without getting bored of it. They don’t play good songs in clubs. It’s too much bass. Too much dancing music. You don’t go to a club for good music.

But, I don’t know what it is about tonight, or what it is about this DJ. The music is just pulsing through me, surging through my veins like that’s all it needs to do in the world. Like my veins are filled with every ear splitting decibel.

I feel so good.

So good.

I want to kiss. I want to party. I want to dance. Dancing sounds fun. I think I can understand the appeal now. Moving your limbs around, just letting the music move through you.

I stop dancing to get a drink, my fingers brushing over the smooth bar. Oh, god, that feels nice. I press my face up against it to feel the smooth surface.

“You okay?” Someone asks.

My heads lifts at the sound. I laugh, the sound coming from deep within my chest. I can feel it there. I blink at the voice, the face connected to it.

Brendon.

I grin and say, “Hi.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Are you high?” He questions.

I laugh again, nodding my head.

He looks a little concerned and I have to say, he is one cute fucker when he’s worried. “What did you take?” He then asks me.

“Gabe gave me some Molly.” I answer. “You should find him. Get some of your own.” I urge. “God, it feels so good.” I step closer, my fingers trailing up his arm. My fingers tingle at the touch. Electricity.

“You took Molly?” His voice sounds shocked. He looks down to my fingers on his skin.

I nod, give him a smirk, coax him a little. I’m feeling in the mood, all of a sudden. My dick is slowly getting hard too. I can feel it. Just from his presence. Or perhaps the molly.

“Maybe you should go get some sleep on the bus.” His voice is cautious.

I giggle, shaking my head. “No.”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Well, I think--”

“Are you coming?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows hopefully.

He looks confused. “Back to the bus?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I’ll go if you go.” I smirk. If I get on the bus, we can do anything we want.

He looks pensive, staring at me. He looks cautious, again. Why is he cautious? I don’t understand.

After another long moment of silence, he nods his head. “Okay.” He grants.

A ginormous grin spreads across my face and we snake through the club to leave. The bus is a few blocks down, having had to be parked where there’s ample room. There’s no fans camped outside of the club, but they’re camped outside of our bus. It’s not too big of a crowd, but it’s a good bit. I grin at them, widely. Well, hello there.

“Shit.” Brendon mutters under his breath. I don’t what he’s concerned about.

“Ryan!” Someone screams. I grin at them. “Can you sign this?”

“Sure thing!” I grab the sharpie from her and sign her poster, happily. Brendon is signing things too and taking photos.

The new plans I made are being put on hold, but it’s for the children.

Damn, it feels good to be adored.

We sign things for a good ten minutes before Brendon waves a goodbye and pulls me away. It’s a struggle to get through the bus doors. A mess of hands groping and flashes of cameras. Amazingly, we made it out of there alive. Without the use of a bodyguard.

Look at us go.

We lock the door and Brendon immediately doubles over, breathing heavily.

“Woah,” I say, blinking at him. My skin still feels abuzz. There’s something under my skin that feels like heaven.

God, I can’t wait to get inside Brendon’s skin.

He’s still heaving, his breathing erratic.

“You alright?” I manage to ask.

He nods his head. “I-I will be.” He chokes out.

“What’s wrong?”

He sits down on the floor, gripping his hair into his hands. “Anxiety.”

I know about that. I nod my head in understanding, moving down to sit next to him. The carpeted floor of the bus feels soft underneath me. I rub his back, a tingle in my hands.

“Thanks.” He murmurs.

I rub his back, giving him a massage just because I’m feeling generous. He slowly begins to calm down. I can feel it. Feel his breathing start to regulate.

“There was... a lot of them.” He tells me.

“I know...” I say, resting my head on his shoulder, my hand massaging into his neck. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” He stiffens a little.

I turn my head, my lips aligning with my neck. I breathe, nosing his neck gently. That feels nice. I lean in closer, pressing my lips gently into his neck.

No one’s here.

His breath grows shallower, but this time it’s not because of nerves. I don’t think so.

I climb into his lap, wanting to be closer, closer than ever before. He doesn’t push me away, in fact, his hands rest on my hips as I straddle him. I turn his head up in my hands, my lips pressing to his. The pleasure I get from kissing him feels like it was sent straight from heaven. I moan, instantly.

I can feel the kiss vibrate through my body and I deepen the kiss, letting our lips slip up and down against each other. I’m a puddle of mush already. We’ve barely begun.

Our kisses are deep and passionate, beginning to speed up as we go. My tongue runs along his bottom lip, asking permission. He opens up for me and I slip inside, licking into his mouth. He tastes good. As good as I remember.

He moans out and I shudder. God, finally. I can hear him.

I slowly begin to grind down on him, my cock hardening as we make out. It’s slow but it feels as damn good as it does when it’s a fervent make out session.

God, I’m so ready to fuck him. After that night, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. His groans and his ass and his hands and his lips and his kiss. It’s been only a few days since we fucked in that hotel room. We were in Tampa when we first fucked. Now we’ve made it to Orlando and it feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done anything. I feel like I’ve been going crazy.

I move away from his mouth, onto his neck where I suck and bite on his sensitive skin. He throws his head back, gasping. 

“God...” He groans. I love it when he does that. The sound vibrates against my lips as I suck on his adam’s apple. His hands slide up my shirt, feeling the skin underneath. His hands are cold against my warm back and I shudder, somehow not minding his cold fingertips.

I pull back, ready to move faster, go all the way. Brendon stiffens, staring at me, nervously. 

“What?” I ask. 

“Let’s not move too fast. Let’s enjoy the moment.” He says it like he’s offering or suggesting something, but there’s a nervous edge to his voice. 

I feel a little disappointed. Does this mean he doesn’t want me? Why doesn’t he want me? “Um… alright.” I say, climbing off of him. My boner is throbbing but I have to ignore it. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just…” He trails off. 

“It’s what?” I ask.

“You’re so high. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” I shake my head, quickly. 

“Well, then… I guess, I just would want you to remember this.” He says, quietly. 

I quirk my eyebrow. “Remember? Of course, I’ll remember.” 

“No, you won’t.” He says, sighing heavily. 

“You don’t know that.” I counter. 

“I just don’t want to take that chance.” He tells me, his eyes shining as the moonlight creeps in through the window. 

“Okay.” I say. My body is still thrumming though. We don’t have to fuck, but he has to let me touch him. Kiss him. I’ve been dying to just be with him again, intimately. 

I reach out, caressing his arm. The sensation sends shivers down my spine and I fall in love with MDMA all over again. What a spectacular drug. 

Brendon smiles over at me. He shifts, leaning in closer so he rests his head on my shoulder. And, this works too. I like this. Just cuddling. Maybe it’s the drug that makes this feel so nice and cozy, or maybe it’s Brendon. All I know is that the combination of him and me and this drug is making me feel all sorts of mushy inside. It’s like butterflies in your stomach but multiplied until the butterflies are flying up and down your spine. 

It’s a lovely feeling. 

“Ryan…” Brendon says, hesitantly. 

“Yes?” 

“What are we?” He asks, sounding pensive. 

I still, my stomach turning up in knots for a moment. But, then I relax. I shrug my shoulders. “I… don’t really know.” I tell him, truthfully. 

“Me neither.” He says, sounding disappointed. “But… I just… I like you. And, we don’t have to be anything special. I just want to know that I… that I can kiss you if I want to. And, not worry that you’re gonna regret it afterwards.”

I chew on my lip. I’d like to think I don’t regret kissing him the way I do, but I feel regret sometimes. It’s hard not to. This man used to be my best friend. Now he’s something in between friend and lover and it’s so hard to navigate that. 

“Maybe… maybe we just… take it slow.” I offer. “See what happens?” 

Brendon pulls his head back to look at me, his eyes wide and innocent. He looks scared, like I could kill him at any moment. “You really want that?” He asks. 

I hesitate for a moment, assessing it in my head. But, then I nod. “Yeah… yes, I do.” I smile. 

Brendon’s lips stretch to a wide grin and he kisses me, tenderly. It’s the most perfect kiss ever. I feel it in my toes. He pulls back. “Alright.” He nods. 

I chuckle, softly. “Alright, then.” 

Brendon tucks his head into my shoulder and sighs, contentedly. 

We stay just like that for awhile. And, nothing has ever felt more perfect.


	10. Chapter 10

Tour went by quite simply after that. I fell into my routines. Routines are always important to me. I don’t think I function very well without one. My life tends to fall apart if I don’t have a plan. 

Well, it tends to fall apart no matter what, but I guess I like to think I have more control of my life when I have a routine. 

I usually awoke and would pop some speed to help me wake. I took a Valium with it for the anxiety and a Vicodin if I felt a migraine coming on. Brendon and I would sneak off to have some alone time. Sometimes we’d kiss. Sometimes we’d talk. Sometimes we’d fuck (if we had a hotel room.) Then it was time for interviews or a show. I’d pop some more Speed and Valium and play the show. It usually went fantastically. Did I mention I loved drugs? 

 

After the show, I struggled to come down. Usually, I had to pop a few vicodin for my migraine and I pop some sleeping pills to help me sleep after the day. 

It was quite a functional routine. 

But, tour is over now. I don’t know quite what to do with all my free time. In some ways, I’m excited. This means I get to spend time by myself for rest. But, now I have to find new routines. 

Brendon’s excited. He said something about it being easier for us now. Which is true. We can fuck anytime we want now, without having to worry about who’s around. Who might hear or see us. 

We never discussed keeping things secret, but it’s not like this is something I’d want the rest of the world to know just yet. I’m not ready for that. I think Brendon knows that. 

But he’s just… there. He’s there when I’m down. He’s there to share a joyful moment with me. He’s there to talk to. He’s there to kiss, to hug, to cuddle. He’s there… and it feels fucking beautiful to be in his presence.

I’ve been so inspired to write lately. It’s almost all I can think about. When I’m not thinking about Brendon, that is. In some ways, he’s intrinsically aligned with my songwriting. With every note, I think of him. 

I don’t know who my songs are about. They could be about Brendon, but I think they’re deeper than that. Who am I to know, though? The words just flow out of me, I can’t be expected to decipher them too. 

It’s been a week or so since tour ended. We’re supposed to start recording a new album soon, so it’s perfect timing that I’m writing all these songs. Sappy as they are. 

Brendon and I haven’t seen each other in a week. I’ve been going crazy. I wonder if he has too.

I pull out of my phone, wondering if it would be worth it to call him. After all, I miss him. I don’t think I’d ever really feel that way about him, but I miss him. 

My feelings regarding Brendon are… confusing. But, I do know that I care for him in a small way. I miss him when he’s gone and I think that says a lot. 

I dial Brendon’s number and put it to my ear, deciding that it was about time we saw each other again. 

“Ryan?” His voice comes from the other line. 

“Hi there.” I greet. 

“Hey.” He returns the greeting. He sounds excited. “What’s up?”

“Let’s go somewhere.” I say. I can be spontaneous sometimes. Suprisingly. 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere.” I repeat. “What do you say?” 

Brendon is quiet for a moment and I wait with bated breath. “Okay.” He grants. “That sounds fun. Where will we go?” 

I smirk, getting an idea. “My surprise. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.” I tell him and hang up. I can just imagine the look of surprise on his face and I feel my stomach flutter with excitement. Tonight is gonna be fun. 

Getting ready is pretty easy. I try not to care too much what I look like. I know Brendon doesn’t care. He’s seen me at my grossest before on tour, surely, I don’t look that gross now. I do make sure I’m wearing deodorant and cologne. I don’t want to reek when I see him. 

I drive over to his place, wondering if I should’ve maybe brought him flowers. But, that’s a ridiculous thought. We don’t buy each other flowers. 

I get out of my car and walk up to the door, knocking loudly and I step back to wait. 

The door swings open pretty soon after that. Brendon is dressed nicely and he has a bright smile on his face. 

“Hey.” He greets. 

“Hi.” I smile.

His brown eyes are shining and my heart starts to beat faster in my chest. 

“Shall we?” I ask, pointing to my car. 

“Sure.” He nods and we walk over. 

I hop in the driver’s seat and mess with the CD, putting in one of Brendon’s favorites. Queen’s A Night at the Opera. 

“Where are we going?” He asks, curiously as he buckles his seatbelt. 

I shrug. “Somewhere nice.” I say, driving away. 

“Okay…” He trails off, sounding intrigued but also skeptical. It’s exactly what I was going for.

Las Vegas is quite beautiful. Even though I hate this place, I have to admit that the scenery is quite serene. It kind of reminds you that life is bigger than just you. When the sky extends all around you, you’re put in your place. Our lives are just a small part of the universe. We’re not important. 

I don’t know if I feel comforted by that or not. 

“Oh, I see.” Brendon says as I pull onto a long trail of dirt road. 

I chuckle, shrugging my shoulders. “I like it up here.” I say, reaching the top of the small mountain and park my car. 

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.” He agrees. 

“I brought snacks.” I say, hopping out of the car and walking around to the trunk. Inside, there was my acoustic and a small brown bag full of sandwiches. I pull out both and walk to the front of the car. 

Brendon’s face is bright and he nods his head. “Impressive.” 

I set my guitar down on the hood of the guitar and hop up onto the roof. “They’re nothing special. Just PB & J, but I tried.” I say.

Brendon laughs. “Wow, you’re spoiling me. PB & J? I mean, can it be any more gourmet?”

I glare at him, playfully. “Shut up. I’m trying here.” I huff. 

“Trying to do what?” He asks, blinking at me.

I open my mouth to say something but I stop. I… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I just want this to be a nice evening. “Just… trying to have fun.” I shrug. 

Brendon stares at me for a moment before huffing. 

“What?” I ask, surprised by the reaction. 

“You’re doing that thing again.” He says, exasperatedly. 

“What thing?”

“Pushing people away.” He tells me. “Sometimes, you want me, sometimes you don’t. It’s confusing you know.” He says, frowning. “I don’t know what you want sometimes.” 

I look down in my lap, shrugging solemnly. “I don’t know either.” I admit. 

“Yeah… that’s the worst part.” He sighs, heavily.

I stay silent for a long time. I don’t know what to say after that. Words seem to fail me. 

I grab my guitar and strum a few chords. Maybe a song would help explain a little better than words can. I bite my lip. It’s worth a shot. 

“I wrote a song.” I tell him. 

“Yeah?” He asks, taking a bite of the sandwich I made for him. 

I nod my head. “Yeah.”

“Can I hear it?” He chuckles. 

I smile, nodding my head. “Alright then.” I say, starting to intro to the song. 

I think it’s a lovely song. One with a beautiful melody. It took me a little while to write, but I feel proud of it. And, I can see on Brendon’s face that he’s enjoying it too. He keeps smiling as I sing. It makes me feel a little shy so I try not to stare at him too much. It makes my face heat up. 

When the song finishes, I glance at Brendon nervously. 

“I think that’s one of your best ones yet.” He tells me, smiling sweetly. 

“You really think so?” I ask, honored by such a compliment. It was almost too good to believe. 

“I really do.” He reiterates. “It’s brilliant. It really is.” 

I look down and grin, shaking my head. “Well… thank you.”

Brendon leans over, pressing a kiss to my cheek, tenderly. 

I look up at him, feeling my face flush again. I don’t know why he did that, but it gave me butterflies. I just smile at him. It’s all I can really do. 

Brendon smiles back and the world seems to stop spinning for a short moment. 

“You’re right, you know.” I tell him. 

He cocks his head to the side. “About what?”

“I do push people away.” I say, agreeing with his previous statement. 

I don’t mean to, it’s just that people are taxing. I’d rather have them at a distance. If they aren’t then they want to know things about you, and I don’t like people knowing my secrets. Those are for me and me only. 

Brendon nods his head, in agreement. 

“It’s just that… I don’t like people very much. Best to avoid them, really. Them and their silly customs.” I explain. 

Brendon laughs, softly. “Yeah, I can understand that.” He says. “Fuck them. Let’s run away.” He offers. 

I look over to him, knowing he’s joking, but I can’t help but feel like that’s the best thing he’s ever suggested. Him and me, away from civilization. I love the idea. 

“How do we expect to run away from humans?” I ask, realizing a flaw in the plan. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of places. We could run across the desert, the woods, space--” 

“Across the universe?” I interrupt. 

Brendon looks into my eyes, deeply. He nods his head. “Yeah, across the universe. You and me, across the universe.”

That sends a shiver down my spine. If only we could travel there together. If only it was possible. I turn back to my guitar and play the chorus to Across the Universe by the Beatles. Such a beautiful song. 

Brendon scoots closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder as I strum the song. Everything feels so lovely, right now. 

I turn my head to look at him, smiling softly. He lifts his head, returning my smile before leaning in, pressing his soft lips into mine. It all explodes in my chest and I almost can’t contain it. Everything feels so good with him. I almost don’t believe it. 

I kiss him back, tenderly. We’re not usually the type for slow, passionate kisses, but there’s always room for something new. That’s what makes it exciting. 

He cards his hand through my hair, holding onto the back of my neck. It feels like heaven to just get to kiss him after all this time. 

I don’t know if this counts as an official date or not. I don’t know a lot of things anymore. But, I do know that if we could do this every day, I would be content. I would be so content.


	11. Chapter 11

I slowly blink my eyes in the morning light. My head is aching, pounding with every heartbeat. This happens every morning. It usually means I just need another Vicodin. It’s a small price to pay for a functional personality. Just a small price. 

I pull myself up in the bed, wincing at the pressure it puts on my head. 

Someone shifts beside me. 

Oh…

We made love last night. I remember now. It was long, and warm, and beautiful. We were beautiful. 

He’s gorgeous when he sleeps. I let my eyes linger on his sleeping form. His dark lashes are resting on his cheek, his chest rising and falling evenly. I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m not sure our relationship constitutes that so I don’t. 

Besides, touching him might wake him and I can’t have him wake up before I’ve taken anything. He can’t see me. He wouldn’t understand if he saw. No one would. 

I slowly unwrap myself from the bed, stepping onto the floor. It’s a slow walk over to my stash, but I’m careful not to make too much noise. 

“Shit.” I curse when the pill bottle rattles in my hands. I pop a few into my hand and throw them in my mouth, dry swallowing them. They form an uncomfortable lump in my throat, that I ignore. It’ll be worth it when they go down. 

I tuck the pills away and shut my dresser drawer that I keep my stash. I walk back over to the bed, smiling at him. I swear, Brendon could sleep through anything. 

Despite my reservations, I decide to touch him after all. Fuck it. He’s too beautiful. I reach down, brushing some of his bangs off his face. I decide to leave him to his slumber, making my way out of my bedroom. 

I reach the kitchen and make myself some coffee, sitting down on my couch. And, I wonder if this is what it would be like. Life with someone. Waking up together and waiting for their pleasant company. I wonder if this would keep me happy forever. 

“Morning.” His voice comes from behind me. 

I turn to look at him, surprised he was up so soon after me. I was expecting him to sleep and sleep. “Hi.” I greet. 

“Make enough coffee for me?” He asks. 

I nod my head. “Yeah. It’s on the counter.” I say. 

He smiles and goes to fetch himself something to drink. 

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, calmly. 

“Wonderfully.” He answers, stepping into the living area. He takes a seat next to me on the couch. “How about you?” 

I shrug. “Pretty good.” I say. It was the first night I fell asleep without painkillers and sleeping pills in months. So, that was pretty damn good. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and then relaxes against the couch. “Thanks for last night.” He says. “It was a really nice night.” 

I smile, warmly, nodding my head. “Yeah, I agree.” 

He grins at me and sips on his coffee, slowly. 

The Vicodin is starting to kick in now, my headache going away. I smile, happily, the medicine making me feel so giddy. I feel pain free and it’s a lovely fucking feeling. 

“You’re beautiful.” I tell him. “Do you know that?”

He raises his eyebrows at me in surprise. His cheeks tint red. “Oh, um, thanks.” He says, chuckling. “You’re pretty too.” He grins. 

I shake my head, looking away. I don’t disagree with him, that would only start a fight, but I find it difficult to believe that. But, that’s okay. He thinks I’m pretty, and that’s enough for me. 

“Can you promise me something?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Sure.” He says, chuckling. 

“No, this is serious.” I say, frowning. 

His smile fades in an instant and he nods his head, slowly. “Okay… what is it?”

“Promise me… promise me you won’t ever lose your light.” I tell him, biting on my bottom lip. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re so bright. You’re like the sunshine. Promise me you won’t let that light fade. Please?” I ask, trying not to sound as anguished as I feel inside. 

“Okay.” He nods. “I promise.” He agrees. “I’ll try my hardest.” 

I smile, nodding my head. “Good. Thank you.” I say, in relief. 

“Why are you telling me this? Do you think I’ll change?” He asks, curiously. 

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know.” I say. “I feel like a lot of people go dark as they get older. I don’t want you to ever be dark. You deserve to shine.” I look over at him, blinking softly. 

His eyes soften and he nods his head in understanding. “Alright. I mean, thank you.” He says, smiling a little. “That’s sweet.” 

 

I nod my head, the edge of my mouth flickering into a smile for a moment. 

My phone starts ringing, disturbing our precious morning. I frown, picking it up and looking to see who was calling. 

Spencer. 

FUCK! 

“Oh, shit, we’re late.” I say, setting my coffee down furiously. 

“Late for what?” Brendon asks, confused. 

“Recording.” I say, opening my phone. Brendon mutters an expletive as I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, where are you?” Spencer asks. He sounds confused. 

“I, uh, I just woke up. I’m sorry. I’ll be at the studio soon, I promise.” I tell him, my heart pounding. 

“Is Brendon with you?” 

I still, my stomach dropping. “Uh… wh-what?” I ask, playing dumb. Oh god, what if he knows something? What if he saw us sometime? Shit, shit, shit. 

“Brendon’s missing too. I thought maybe you guys were together or something.” He says, brushing it off. My nerves calm down only slightly. “Well, if you hear from Brendon, just remind him that we needing him for vocals.” Spencer says, sounding a little annoyed. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll… I’ll call him for you. Is that okay?” I ask. 

“Sure, yeah, go ahead. But, good luck, I’ve already tried him a few times. He’s not answering.” 

“Alright. I’ll try my best.” I cough, nervously. 

“Thanks. See you soon.” He says, before hanging up the phone. 

“Shit, we never set an alarm.” Brendon swears.

I chew on my lip. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I say, trying to remind myself that. “We just need to get ready fast.” 

Brendon nods his head and sets his coffee down. Our mugs lay forgotten on the table as we rush to the bedroom. We dress as quickly as we can, rushing about. It takes us a total of ten minutes before we get in my car and start for the studio. 

I feel sick with guilt, but Brendon keeps telling me it’s fine. It’s hard to believe it’s fine though. We’re two hours late. 

“Ah, you found Brendon.” Jon says when we both rush in the studio door. 

“Oh, yeah, I went to go pick him up.” I clear my throat. 

“That was nice of you.” Spencer says, furrowing his brow. 

I shrug. “His place is on my way here.” I explain. “Let’s get to recording. What have we missed?” I ask. 

“Nothing much. We recorded some of my drum parts again. We need Brendon now.” Spencer tells me, shrugging his shoulders. 

They didn’t get very far. That’s a good thing, maybe. I like to be apart of things. This is my album, I should have a say in things. 

With that decision made, we jump into recording. I think Brendon and I are safe from being found out. Maybe… 

\----

This is new, but Zack said this is better. He said this will help. And, my god, does it help. With this, I’m on top of the motherfucking world. It’s the greatest feeling ever. Better than speed, because speed made me anxious. This is something else entirely. 

I do another line for good measure.

Today’s recording has been going horribly. My body started to feel the withdrawal earlier and my hands got so shaky I couldn’t even play guitar properly. It was terrible. But, this will help. 

I step out of the bathroom, smiling, because I feel like I just had a jolt of electricity through my body. If only I didn’t chew through my cheeks, this would be a wonder drug. But, I can handle a few sores and nosebleeds. Those don’t phase me much. 

I walk back into the recording studio and grin at my bandmates. “Alright, I’m better now.” I say. 

Spencer quirks an eyebrow at me. “Alright.” He said, shrugging. 

“Let’s do my part again. I think I can do it better.” I say, grabbing my guitar. 

James, our producer nods his head, “Alright.” He says to me. 

I plug my guitar in and check its tuning. It sounds beautiful as I strum a chord. I love the sound of it. 

The recording goes perfectly. I’ve never played better. It was godlike. I loved every minute of it. 

“Alright, let’s take the bass part one more time too.” James says, looking to Jon. 

Jon nods his head and grabs his Rickenbacker, approaching the booth. 

I frown, not wanting to leave just yet. “Are you sure?” I ask James. 

“Yeah, we got all we needed from you.” He says. 

I nod, huffing a little, but I leave the booth. 

Jon walks inside, setting everything up for himself. 

As I exit, I catch Brendon’s eye. He’s staring at with concern, his brow knitted tightly. 

I feel a little uncomfortable by his gaze. I wonder what he’s thinking. 

“Wasn’t that good?” I ask the boys. 

Spencer nods. “Yeah, good job.” He chuckles. “Now stop fishing for compliments.”

I laugh. “No, no, I’m just proud.” I say. 

“Sure.” Spencer rolls his eyes. 

“Aw, come on Spencer, give me this one.” I joke. 

I walk over to get some water and Brendon stands up from the couch, following me. My stomach churns with nerves. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, stepping towards the door. 

I hesitate, not wanting to follow him. But, I do. I nod my head, stepping out of the room and into the small hallway. 

“Are you alright? You’re acting weird.” He says, frowning. 

I laugh. “Weird?” I ask, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m just happy.” I smile. 

Brendon stares at me, skeptically. “Are you high?” He asks. 

 

I blink at him, wondering how he guessed it. “No, I’m just happy. Is it a crime to be happy?” I ask, denying the question. 

“You’re acting weird! This isn’t like you.” He says, sounding more concerned than I expected. 

He doesn’t need to worry. I have it under control. 

I shake my head and grab his cheeks. “I’m just happy. Relax, baby. You just need to relax. I’m fine.”

He bites his lip, looking unconvinced. “I just… I’m worried. You’ve been different lately.”

“How so?” I ask, chuckling. There’s nothing different about me. 

“You just… you get all down and depressed and then next thing I know, you’re happy and acting like you own the place.” He says.

“I do own the place.” I chuckle, letting go of his cheeks. “I started this band, after all.”

“Where is this coming from?” He asks, looking confused. 

I sigh, heavily and wrap my arms around his waist. I pull him close and, rubbing his back. “Don’t worry about me.” I say. “I’m doing fucking great. Why are you upset that I finally have confidence?”

Brendon’s mouth tightens. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Alright.” He gives up the fight. “If this is just confidence, then I’m happy for you. You deserve to feel happy and confident.”

“Thank you.” I smile. I look to my right and left, making sure no one is looking before I lean down, pressing a breathtaking kiss against Brendon’s lips. As I pull back, I smile. “You’re cute.” I say. 

Brendon smiles, shaking his head. “Shut up.” He says. 

“I mean it.” I say. “You’re really cute.” I pull him back in for a kiss. 

I kiss him like there’s nothing else in the world. I've always loved kissing him. His soft, pliable lips pressing into mine with every bit of reciprocation you could ask for. He's the best kisser I've ever met. 

But, the kisses hurt. The sores I've got in my mouth from last night’s bender begin to reopen as we kiss, losing any progress of healing that my mouth might have done. But I put up with it. I don't care. The pain is good. He feels good. I can put up with it. 

His tongue brushes over my bottom lip, begging to go deeper so I let him. Open my mouth to let him in. He takes a broad lick over my mouth and I can’t help but wince, pulling back from the kiss just a little.

Fuck. 

I raise my hand to my mouth, pain shooting through me. Damn sores. 

Brendon looks anxious at my yelp. “What's wrong?” He asks, his voice full of pity. Goddammit. 

“Nothing.” I say, quickly, pulling back my hand. There's a bit of blood gathered there. Not a lot, not like I've seen in the past but it's enough for Brendon to see. 

“Oh my god!” He exclaims. 

“Really, it’s--”

“You're bleeding!”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.” He insists, staring at me. “Did I do that?” He asked, horrified. 

“No.” I say, quickly, shaking my head. “No, no, god no. I just… bit my cheek. It's not important.” 

“We should stop the bleeding.” He says. I wonder if he could taste my blood. I sure can. 

I shake my head, frustrated. “No, it's, god, it's fine!” I huff and stand up. “You know what? Fuck this. I just wanted to kiss you, but apparently you’ve decided to play nurse.” I say, exasperatedly. 

“I'm worried for you!” Brendon stands up too, defiantly crossing his arms. 

“I'm fine.” I say with finality. 

“No you're not.” He says, his voice equally as final. 

“Fuck you.” I turn and march back into the recording studio. I plop down on the couch and wait for when it’s my turn to record. 

Damn sores. Damn nosebleeds. Damn blood. Damn life. If it wasn’t my favorite drug in the world, I’d kick it to the curb. 

I’m not an addict. Nowhere near addict. I’m just fixing myself. That’s all. Someone’s gotta understand that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> (Drug and drug related content. Overdose and suicidality).

It’s almost one in the morning when Brendon comes over. We spent hours in the studio today, working all the way until midnight. I invited Brendon over afterwards. Thought it’d be nice for us to unwind. Maybe it’s stupid… Maybe I’m crazy. But, Brendon just makes everything better. 

He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t think. But, he’s no longer just a friend to me. We’ve surpassed friendship. I don’t know how to define us, really. He’s just… my Brendon. 

A knock sounds on the door to my apartment. I can’t help but grin and walk over to the door, throwing it open. “Good evening.” I greet. 

“Hey there.” He smiles, with just a hint of seduction in his eyes. 

Maybe he’s thinking the same as me. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight. 

“Come in.” I urge, stepping back from the door. 

Once he’s inside, I pull him close, planting a kiss on his lips. 

He pulls away to look at me, his eyes wide in surprise. “Hello to you too.” He chuckles. 

I grin and pull him back in for another kiss. And, it’s sweet, and it’s decadent, and I feel like everything that hurts doesn’t anymore. Brendon’s lips are a drug of his own. I wonder if he knows that, or if he’s ignorant to his own power. 

I’d never let him know that he has power over me, though. I don’t think it’d be a good thing for him to know that fact. 

He moans a little as I lick my way into his mouth. I love the sounds he makes. 

We haven’t been very intimate with each other lately. Recording has taken a lot out of both of us. But, I’m feeling energetic tonight. Let’s hope he’s the same way. 

He pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily. He laughs, softly. “Wow. What a welcome.” He grins. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” I tell him. 

“We were just together.” He points out, smiling wider. 

“I know. But, we weren’t together. We were working.” 

“You’re not sick of me?” He laughs, softly. I love to hear him laugh. 

“Maybe it’s because I enjoy your company. Ever thought of that?” I ask. 

“No, actually. I always assume that I annoy you to death.” He says, his eyes serious, although he smiles. 

I laugh, shrugging my shoulders. “I mean, sometimes you do.” I tell him. 

He punches my shoulder. “Hey!”

“I’m kidding… sorta.” I shrug. It’s true. Sometimes, he’s a lot to handle and other times, like tonight, I just long for his company. His embrace. I feel like everything just stops for a moment and I get to enjoy the night. 

He rolls his eyes, chuckling. “But, seriously, why’d you bring me over?” 

That’s a good question. 

“I don’t know, I just thought we could chill together. Unwind.” I say. “Do you want a beer?”

Brendon sits down on the couch, nodding. “I’d love one.” He says. 

I nod and trek into the kitchen, retrieving two beers from the fridge. I don’t drink much, don’t really like the taste. But, I know it’s something you do to relax. It’s customary. And, sometimes, the alcohol makes the drugs work faster. 

I step back into the room, handing him a beer. I sit down next to him as he pops open the cap. 

“You know, it’s a good thing you invited me over. I think I forgot one of my jackets here.” He chuckles. 

“Oh really?” I ask. 

“Yeah, I think I left it on one of your bed posts. You haven’t seen it?” 

“Not at all.”

“It’s probably still there then.” He decides. 

I guess it could be. 

We drink our beers in silence for a moment. I hesitate to say much. I’d rather just let our bodies talk, but that’s just my opinion. He might have different ideas. 

“Are you feeling better?” He questions. 

I furrow my brow and look at him. “What do you mean?”

“The other day, you were acting strange.” He says. 

“Oh,” I shrug, “I mean, I felt fine then too.” I say. “But, yeah, I guess I’m better now.”

“Good.” He smiles.

Silence.

“This beer is good.” 

“Thanks.”

Silence. 

Why is this so awkward? Brendon’s giving off such weird vibes. He’s different somehow. I don’t like the way he’s acting. I wish he would just act normal. 

I clear my throat. 

“Do you mind if I go check for that jacket? It’ll only take a second.” He says. 

I look at my bedroom door and press my lips together. “I mean, sure, but you could always do that later.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I just think it’d be best if I looked for it now. You know… before anything happens.” He winks at me, full of flirtatious insinuation. 

My heart picks up speed. So, he does want sex? I feel so confused, but I grant him his wish. If it means we get to enjoy ourselves after, then he can do anything he wants.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” I tell him. 

He smiles, brightly and heads for my bedroom, disappearing into the room. 

I drink some more of my beer. I can feel the drugs wearing off. I need another hit. But, maybe Brendon and the adrenaline rush that he is will carry me through. I hope so, at least. I don’t want to get all shaky and desperate with him around. I don’t need him seeing me on withdrawal. It’s a nasty sight. 

I don’t want him to see the worst of me. 

When Brendon comes back into the room, his eyes are wide and wild. I furrow my eyebrows, surprised by the sudden change in mood. 

“Ryan…” He says, slowly making his way over to me. “Are you… happy?” He asks, timidly. His voice is shaky. Oh god, what is wrong? “Do I make you happy?” 

I don’t know where this is coming from, but I just try to answer his questions calmly. “Yes, of course you make me happy. Is that not obvious?” I say, laughing awkwardly. 

“Well, then… would you tell me… if you’re not okay?” He asks. 

I’m confused by the question. I’m not sure if I’m following what he’s saying, but I try my best to answer him. Gulping, I speak. “I’m okay. Is that what you’re asking? Because, I’m doing just fine.” I say, smiling just to prove it. 

“I just…” He inhales, “I just don’t know how I never put the clues together.”

I stare at him, befuddled. “Clues? What are you talking about? What are you worrying about now?” I ask, shaking my head. “Brendon, I told you I’m doing alright. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I saw the coke, Ryan. Don’t try to tell me not to worry about you!” He suddenly exclaims. 

I blink at him in shock and horror. He found the drugs. God, how did he find them? What didn’t I hide? I try to wrack my brain to think of where he would’ve seen them. Did he snoop through my drawers? God, how dare he!

But, then it dawns on me. Shit! I left it on my end table. Under a book of course, but that’s hardly discreet. 

I shake my head. “That’s… that’s nothing.” I stutter. 

“That’s not nothing!” He roars. “Ryan, that’s so dangerous. I understand doing some for fun, once in awhile, but not all the time. Not everyday. And, don’t try to deny that it’s not every day,” He interrupts me as I try to protest, “I know what you’re like. You’re lethargic a-and sad and then all of a sudden, you’re a different person. Oh god.” He whimpers, tears forming in his eyes. 

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s… it’s not like I’m an addict! I don’t have to do drugs, I just… it helps me. I’m better.” I explain, hoping he’ll understand. 

“Better?” He asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “You think you’re better on drugs?!” 

“You know I’m better!” I exclaim. “I-I’m confident, and suave and I’m not sad, or nervous anymore. I’m so much better.” 

“No! Ryan, that’s all you. I know it is. There’s confidence in you when you’re not high. You just have to find it.” He says, a tear falling down his cheek. He wipes it away, quickly. 

“Are you kidding me?!” I spit back at him. “You think I have confidence?” I ask. “I’ve never had confidence a day in my life. Manufactured confidence is all I can have. Why are you trying to take that away from me?!” I demand. “Why can't you see that it's better this way? I'm amplified. I'm more than me, Brendon. Why do you want me to go back to who I was?”

“You were just fine back then. You had your issues, but you were still you. Kind, and gentle, and I loved that about you.” He says, gently, sniffling. “I liked you for you. I don’t like you on drugs. You’re different. You’re not the same person I…” He stops, his body going rigid. 

I stare at him, waiting for him to finish. 

“You’re not the same person I fell in love with.” He finally says, his voice breaking. He chews on his lip as more tears spill out his eyes. 

“What?” I ask, wanting him to repeat.

“I love you, Ryan. And, I hate seeing you do this to yourself.” He manages to say. 

The words reach my ears but it doesn't resonate. No, the words were spoken but not to me. They're not for me. No one can love me. 

Brendon’s staring at me, paralyzed with fear, his eyes a mix of hopeful and distraught. It’s like it took a lot for him to say it. 

The words echo in my ear. 

I love you. 

No. No. No he cannot. Should not. There's no way I'm deserving of something that special. I don't care how he vulnerable he looks or how deeply he means it, it's not true. 

“Ryan?” He asks when I don’t respond. 

I scrunch my eyes and grip my hands into my hair. 

“Ryan,”

“No, god.” I groan in frustration, dropping my arms to look at him. “Don't… don't say shit like that.” I tell him, my voice softer and gentler than I intend. It sounds broken to my ears. 

“What are you talking about?” Brendon asks, his brow knitted together. 

“That's… what you're saying isn't. It's not… it can't be true.” I decide on. 

“But it is.” Brendon insists. 

“You can't love me.”

“But, I do.” 

“You shouldn't.” My chest is constricting uncomfortably. 

“I don't care what you think about it.” Brendon says, standing taller, his spine straightening. 

“You can’t… god, you can’t love me.” I huff. 

“Ryan, I do.” He says. “But, I don’t… I love the real you. The one I know.” 

“He’s gone.” I tell him. 

The hopeful light in Brendon’s eyes die. He doesn't blink or move, just stares into my soul with a look that has far too many dark emotions for my liking. 

There’s a bone chilling silence that’s taken over us. My stomach is churning with every eerie second. 

He looks sad. 

I caused that. 

“I refuse to believe that. I know he’s there, somewhere.” Brendon tries again. He sounds desperate. 

“No!” I exclaim. “He’s fucking gone. I’m sorry, but your love needs to go to someone else.” I tell him.

“Ryan, please.” He whimpers. 

“God, please just leave.” I rub my face with my hands. 

“Ryan--”

“Go away.” 

“Please--”

 

“I don’t fucking love you!” 

He stills, blinking at me in shock. 

“I don’t love you.” I say, a little more calmly. “Now, please…” My voice cracks as tears fill my eyes. “Please leave me alone.” 

Brendon looks at the ground for a moment. He looks broken. God, I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just… he can’t love me. 

“Okay.” He says, finally. He looks up at me, his eyes red with tears. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone. But, please… please consider getting help. What you’re doing… it’s so dangerous. I don’t want to lose you.” 

“God, just leave!” The tears start streaming down my face. 

He sniffles, but he does go. He walks to the door, a limp in his step. He turns around as he opens up my front door. But, he doesn’t say anything. He just steps out into the night. 

I’m left alone. 

I can’t stand anymore. I crumple to the ground, sobbing. 

He loves me. He really shouldn’t.

I can’t believe what just happened. I just ruined everything. All that we had together is gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

I cry and cry, my tears never ceasing. Jesus Christ, I need to get a fucking grip. He’s… he’s not that important. I was just… just passing the time. It’s not like I love him back… Do I?

I pull myself up off the floor, telling myself to suck it up. It was just a fling. Besides, he couldn’t ever understand my need for drugs. Without them, I’m nothing. I’m a cynical asshole with no future. With drugs, I’m more than I could’ve ever hoped to be. I can’t lose that. 

I stumble to my room, searching for the coke he found. I can’t see it anywhere. Motherfucker, he better not have flushed it down the toilet. But, I didn’t hear a flush. So, no, he couldn’t have. 

I walk over to my trash can, ruffling through all the crumpled up song lyrics and tissues. And, then I find it, at the bottom of the bucket. My eight ball. 

I rifle through my drawers, gathering my razor. I need a fix. 

I crush the coke, cutting them into fat lines on my dresser. I cut more than I normally do, but I need an abnormal amount tonight. I need to forget. 

I snuff the coke, doing line after line after line. I pull my head back, rubbing my nose. The drugs are already setting in. My heart beating faster. I laugh, softly. God, what a night. What a fucking night. 

But, something’s wrong. My heart is beating too fast and my hands start to shake. Everything around me starts to spin. I grip my chest as the pain sets in. Oh god, I’m having an overdose. 

Somehow I end up on the floor, my arms and legs twitching. Oh god, oh god. 

But, I don’t scream for help. Maybe this is Karma. Maybe, this is how I’m meant to go out. 

Shit, maybe I deserve this.

I groan, loudly, the pain intense. 

Then, suddenly, it all fades to black.


	13. Chapter 13

“Resting heart rate is 70 bpm.” 

“That's pretty good.”

“I think he's stirring. Oh my god, he's stirring!”

I don't really know where I am. Everything's still so dark. My mouth tastes like vomit and copper and my body aches like I've been run over by a train multiple times. 

A sliver of light pierces my view and that’s when I realize that I've begun to open my eyes. My body’s beginning to respond but my brain is waiting to comprehend it all. 

My eyes peel back to reveal white. White walls, white sheets, white everything. I grimace back against the bed. It's too bright. It's worsening the migraine in my head. 

“Hey,” a voice coos softly, but I don't know who it belongs to, “you're okay. Oh my god, you're okay.” The voice whimpers and I manage to look away from the white jacket before my eyes. 

It takes me awhile but I manage to roll my neck enough to see where the voice is coming from. 

It's a person, although I figured as much. There's something familiar about him. I'm sure I know him because he's crying as he stares at me. 

He has dark brown eyes, glistening with tears. Dark hair falls over his eyes but he doesn’t push it away. I almost have the urge to do it for him, although that seems like an odd urge. It's a good thing I can't move my body very easily. 

There's others too. A man and a woman standing behind him. They're familiar too but I can't quite place them. 

The dark haired man moves closer, his warm hand resting on mine. His eyes widen a little in shock before wrapping his fingers around my whole hand. 

I just blink at him. 

“Here you go, sir, drink some water.” The nurse says as she shoves a straw into my mouth. I suck on it weakly, but I'm thankful to get to wash some of this vomit taste out of my mouth. 

“His hands are cold.” The dark haired boy says, almost in anguish but the nurses ignore him. 

The woman behind dark haired boy is sobbing, although she’s trying to mask it. The man is stoic. He looks eerily familiar and it sends a shiver up my spine. 

The nurse takes my water away and I frown in disappointment. 

“Ryan,” 

I snap my head at the sound of my name. My mother. Yes, that’s who the woman is. Damn, I haven’t seen her in years. 

Mom caresses my face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you're alive.” She whispers. 

My dad looks down. That’s obviously the older man next to her is my father. Although, I hate him. I don’t remember why but I hate him. 

Dark haired boy-- no wait, Brendon. Yes, Brendon. Brendon squeezes my hand and it's in that instant that I remember he loves me. He loves me and I love him. 

I blink around at the hospital room I'm in. There are needles in my arms and I just now notice the oxygen tank that's up my nose. The oxygen is cold when I breathe in. 

I didn't die. 

Why didn't I die?

My memory is flooding back to me and I look down at the white sheets encasing me in shame. I can’t believe I let myself overdose. I had it all under control, I did! Fuck. 

I feel tears starting to form in my eyes and I hold them back, not allowing myself to cry. Not in front of all of these nurses and people. I can’t let it happen. 

“Ryan,” Brendon whispers, softly, “How are you feeling?” He asks. 

I look over at him, too nervous to speak. My throat feels dry. I shrug my shoulders. 

“You scared us so much.” My mother sniffles. 

I stare at her in disbelief. This woman hasn’t been in my life for ages and now, she suddenly cares. What a joke. 

“I want to be alone.” I say, my voice hoarse. 

“What?” My mother asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“I want to be alone. Please… please leave.” I beg, my voice breaking. 

“You want everyone gone?” Brendon asks me, looking sad. Sad that I didn’t want him to stay. But, I can barely look at him. I can barely look at anyone. I just need him to go. 

I nod my head to him.

He lets go of my hand, the warmth fading. He steps back and nods his head, turning around and heading for the door. 

My mother leaves, followed by my father and the nurses. And, then I am alone.

I can’t stop the tears as they start to flow. I just curl myself up and let myself cry. 

\-----

I refused to let anyone come back. I didn’t want to see their pitying faces. I don’t need pity. I fucked up, but it’s not like I’m suicidal. I didn’t do this on purpose. 

The nurse opens up my door, stepping inside. “Morning. I’m here to take your vitals.” She says, walking over to me. 

 

I sit up in my bed, letting her have my arm for the blood pressure test and any other tests she has to do. I’m limp at this point. I feel nothing but regret. 

I wish this hadn’t happened. 

I haven’t had drugs in thirty hours. A record for me. They’ve given me some kind of drug to help withdrawal symptoms, so technically I’m still on drugs. The doctors are helping me stabilize, but really, they’re fooling themselves. Pain meds are still a drug. Pumping me full of it won’t stop my need for drugs. 

I sigh and rest my back against the bed, the bed propping me up. I hate this place. 

Everything is so white. White walls, white floors, white ceilings, white bed, white bed sheets.I despise the color white. It’s too pristine, too perfect, too clinical. 

I hate everything about this place. 

“You have a couple visitors waiting for you.” The nurse says, not looking up at me as she scribbles onto my file. 

“I don’t want to see anybody.” I tell her. 

“Well, one young man was hoping you might at least see him.” She says. 

I know it’s Brendon waiting down there. He loves me. Of course, he’d be here. 

“He was the first one here. Are you sure you don’t want to see him?” She asks. “Might do you some good to see a friend.”

 

I take a deep inhale, weighing the pros and cons. Eventually, I just shrug my shoulders. “Alright.” I tell her. 

“I’ll send him in for ya.” She smiles and heads for the door. 

Suddenly, fear fills my bones. Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t really want to see him. I don’t feel like I’m ready yet. I’m two seconds away from a breakdown and I don’t want him to see that. Although, maybe… maybe he’d understand. Maybe he’d be the only one to understand. I trust him. I trust him more than anything else. That doesn’t come easily for me. Trust, for me, means more than I love you. 

Maybe I love him back.

My head starts to spin with all of these confusing feelings and my hands start to shake. Maybe I need another dose of meds. 

But, then there’s a knock on the door.

My eyes snap to the door and I lock eyes with him. With Brendon. Love swells in my guts. 

Maybe I love him.

My mouth feels dry and I have no words to say. I have no clue what to say. 

“Hi.” He says, sounding relieved. 

I press my lips together, too nervous to say anything. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, gently. 

I nod my head. 

He steps into the room, smiling softly. He walks over to my bed, grabbing the chair from the corner of the room. He keeps himself a good distance from me, like he sensed that I needed the space. 

God, I love how he can read my mind. 

“How are you feeling today?” He asks, his lips a thin line as his brow furrows in worry. 

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not as painful today.” I tell him, being honest. 

He smiles, widely. “That’s good to hear.” He tells me. 

I look down at the stark white sheets, my eyes blurring out of focus. 

“I’m sorry.” I say, quietly. Almost too quietly. “I’m so sorry.” 

Brendon reaches out, taking my hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay, Ryan.” He says, squeezing tightly. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here. You’re alive.” I can see tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so grateful that you’re alive.”

I feel myself start to cry too, unable to stop it. “I’m so stupid.” I say, shaking my head. 

“No, you’re not stupid. You’re just sick.” He tells me.

I look up at him, those words being spoken for the first time. I don’t know how to take that. The words burn in my guts. I’m not sick. I don’t think so anyway. 

“But, it’s okay. You can get help.” He says, sniffling. 

“I… do you really think I need it?” I ask, my mind spinning. 

Brendon nods his head, carefully. “I think that you’re struggling. I think you’ve struggled for a long time, but you don’t have to anymore. You don’t need drugs in your life. That only causes trouble. There’s a possibility for you to be healthy. I promise.” 

I look down, shaking my head. “But, I was fine before. I just made a mistake.”

Brendon sighs, heavily. “Ryan…” He says, gently, “you need to stop this. It’s not healthy. I don’t want this to happen again. I can’t lose you.” He says, tears falling down his face. 

I’m reminded of that night. Was it the other day? Or has it been awhile? How long was I out? He was crying, begging me to stop. My heart aches with the same ache that it did before. 

“You wouldn’t.” I argue.

“Yes, I would.” He says. “I want you on this earth. Please Ryan… please consider getting help?” He asks of me. 

I stare into his brown eyes, finding comfort in them. I’ve seen those eyes for so long. I didn’t appreciate them for so long. I need to appreciate them better. I want to. 

“Can I think about it?” I ask, my voice shaky. I’m nervous. I don’t want to give this up… but Brendon’s so convincing. Maybe it’ll be fine without the drugs. Maybe I am sick. 

God, I’m so torn up inside. 

“Of course.” He says, nodding his head profusely. “Of course you can think about it.” 

I nod my head. I’ll consider it. That’s all he asked of me anyway. I sigh, heavily, letting a few tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m so scared, Brendon.”

 

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” He reaches over, wiping my tears. “But, you’re gonna be just fine. I’m gonna be here for you, every step of the way. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“You don’t hate me?” I ask, looking over at him. 

“I don’t.” He says, sounding sure of it. “Ryan… like I said before, I… I love you.”

I look down, but nod my head. Getting angry at him for his love was so cruel of me. I won’t make that mistake again. 

“And, I don’t need you to say it back. I understand. I just need you to believe it. A-and know that I’m not leaving just because it’s getting tough.” He tells me. 

I’m not deserving of that kind of love. I can’t believe someone could feel that way about me. 

“Okay?” He asks.

I nod my head. “Okay.” 

“I want nothing but your health and happiness, Ryan.” He says. “You’re just gonna have to trust me that it will be okay. It will all be okay.” 

I look over at him, disbelievingly. I’m so scared of what I don’t know. I’m scared of love and health and happiness. I haven’t had those things for so long. I don’t know if I could handle it. 

But, then I nod. 

Okay. If he believes in me, then I will try to believe in myself. I will. For him. 

It’s all for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so there you go. That's the story. I may do an epilogue later on, but life has been so busy, it's been difficult to remember to write xD I hope you enjoyed this story. :) Thanks for reading it!


End file.
